


The Immorchancer

by MyrJuhl



Category: Pushing Daisies, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, Twilight (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adult Content, Age Difference, American Actors - Freeform, Angry Sex, Angst, Art, Awkwardness, Balrog Slayer, Bodily Fluids, Bottoming, British Actors - Freeform, Cameos from Lee Pace’s movies, Crimes & Criminals, Crossover, Crossover movie verse/real life, Deviates From Canon, Discriminatory Language, Drama, Dubious Content, Elvenking, Flashbacks, Grudges, Het (implied), Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Kissing, Language, Loss, Love, M/M, Manipulation, Minor Character Death, Modern Era, Mpreg, Orgasm, Para-normality, Past, Secrets, Smut, Tension, Vampires, blowjob, discomfort, hermaphroditic character, identity theft, intersexual character, light kink, sexual favours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-06 21:12:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11044446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyrJuhl/pseuds/MyrJuhl
Summary: Immorchancer: tr.v. im•mor•chan-cer (ĭ-môr′tʃɑːnsə)A charming pie maker who can bring back the dead.(I just made that up... - even though it’s bullet proof truthdom ;)*The age of the Elves was over. Mirkwood’s King Thranduil had no longer a people to rule. Serving no purpose there any longer, he decided to leave Middle Earth. Keeping inconspicuous since he never aged was feasible for a few centuries, but eventually his past caught up to him when someone crossed his path that he hadn’t seen in many millennia. They made a deal that turned out unexpectedly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** These events never happened. This fic is for entertainment purposes only, not profit. I, the author, make no claim through this work as to the fictitious characters/ actual lives/ preferences/ activities of the people mentioned herein. 
> 
> **Author's notes:** Just a little something with lots of ideas made up on the go that might work along the way – or not. My knowledge on stolen identity, legal matters, etc. is not impressive, so just go with it. I did ;)
> 
>  **Time line:** A dash of background story, but otherwise 2016-ish.
> 
> Cameos of colleagues and characters from Lee Pace’s movie career: Charlotte ‘Chuck’ Charles (Pushing Daisies (2007), Uma Thurman, Luke Evans, Miss Guinevere Pettigrew (Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day 2008), Carlisle Cullen (Twilight – Breaking Dawn part 2 (2012), Olive Snook (Pushing Daisies (2007), Garrett (Twilight – Breaking Dawn part 2 (2012), Karen Gillan, Richard Armitage.

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

London, June

 

When the age of the Elves was over, King Thranduil ruling over Mirkwood no longer served any purpose. Those who mattered knowing had moved to the west, left for The Undying Lands, or passed into the Halls of Mandos. His beloved son Legolas left for Valinor, too. Thranduil had no wish to follow him, and instead left his crumbled homeland to seek other places to experience something new and make life still worth living.

Reaching the West was nothing like Thranduil imagined. Everything was different, far more advanced, vulgar, and confusing. Roaming lands and their strange customs, the Elf did his best to adapt in a time moving forward too fast. Trying to blend in with other people while doing so became a dangerous and necessary sport, but eventually he decided to linger on the British Isles. Travelling occasionally and keeping inconspicuous since he never aged was feasible for a few centuries. Eventually, the modern age gained up on him with its damned technology registration impatience; facts which made it increasingly difficult to use the identity of a deceased citizen, when he needed to renew his data to not stand out as a freak to society.

Since he settled in London in 1889, Thranduil had established himself as an arts dealer, selling his own work along with others’. The gallery was called ‘The d’Oro Thran Duil Art’s Gallerie’. Besides ruling a kingdom - back in his Mirkwood days, Thranduil also was a renowned weapon’s smith, wielding intricate, beautiful swords and knives. Occasionally, he still made a few for the shop. Every time he presented one, it was quickly sold and requests never failed demanding who the outstanding craftsman was. Wisely, Thranduil never revealed his identity. 

In recent time, he hired a person to front the gallery, because he had to step into a new identity too often to be seen by regular customers. Getting a new identity was overdue soon, but he hadn’t had any luck getting new papers. The man who had done it for him the previous two times unfortunately went and died of old age. Trusting new people to handle his identity was nauseating, but Thranduil couldn’t pretend to be pushing fifty any longer, when in reality he barely looked more than in his late twenties. 

One Wednesday shortly before noon, a customer entered the store. Thranduil was in his office fiddling with a couple of invoices. The door always stood ajar for him to keep an audio contact to what went on outside. His keen assistant Mrs. Thurman spoke with them but the conversation seemed off. Thranduil’s sharp hearing preceded Mrs. Thurman’s arrival, when he clearly heard a male voice inquire about the owner.

“I’m sorry, sir, but Mr. Crane is not available...”

“Of course, he is. Your _Excellence?_ Thranduil Oropherion?”

Thranduil frowned. No one knew his real name anymore, so that was a pretty personal request. He heard determined footsteps walking towards the office. He got out of his chair and steeled himself for anything coming through that door. He would never have thought he’d see that particular person ever again though. All he could do was try and quench the shocked gasp threatening to push from his chest.

“You!” he finally said.

“Mr. Crane?” Mrs. Thurman said, having hastened to follow the customer’s determined destination.

Quickly gathering his bearings, Thranduil assured her, “It is all right, Mrs. Thurman. Close the door.” Thranduil never took his eyes off his guest.

“All right,” Mrs. Thurman said and quietly closed the door leaving them alone.

“Thranduil,” a tall blond Elf greeted him. “How quaint to find you here. I saw the sign and thought... What are the odds? I did some digging and here I am.” He cast a look at the closed door and inquired, “Elvish?”

“No. She’s human.”

“Shame.”

Thranduil let out a measured breath. “Do not even breathe on her,” he warned.

His guest put on an air of innocence.

“So... I see you are still amongst the living, Balrog Slayer. I would have imagined you had passed on to the Halls of Mandos... this time willingly,” Thranduil said staring him down.

“You would have, wouldn’t you?” the equally haughty reply came prompt. 

Thranduil ignored the jibe. His own arrogance could easily match that of Glorfindel’s. Stepping around his desk, he came to stand next to the ancient Noldor. None of them presented themselves like noblemen any longer. Thranduil did keep his long hair in a practical ponytail, whereas Glorfindel’s was actually cut short. Thranduil acknowledged how well it suited him. He didn’t tell him though. Glorfindel didn’t need his ego pumped up more than necessary.

“So... How old are you now?” Glorfindel asked, as if Thranduil was a child eagerly counting the days until his next birthday.

“Older,” Thranduil merely said. This was hardly any of Glorfindel’s concern; besides the Elf already knew.

“But still younger than me,” Glorfindel laughed.

“Really?” Thranduil rolled his eyes at the sheer stupidity of the way this nonsense was headed. 

“I know exactly how old you are, my dear Thranduil. In fact, I witnessed your birth.”

Thranduil scoffed. His father, King Oropher of Mirkwood, had never seemed to approve of Glorfindel, so the possibility that this Elf would have been in the vicinity of his queen giving birth to Thranduil was as unlikely as... Thranduil stopped his thoughts and his lips parted.

Glorfindel smirked. “It just crossed your mind that _I_ could possibly be your father, didn’t it? And that would have made you an adorable little bastard Princeling, wouldn’t it?”

“Of course, I did not. Do not assume such absurdity.” He shouldn’t have responded at all to this scandalmonger! Thranduil snapped his mouth shut and rubbed his brow, as the tips of his ears pinked with quiet indignation. It was impressive how quickly Glorfindel could turn a conversation containing nothing into containing even less. Lifting his eyes to the ceiling for inspiration, Thranduil finally answered, “What exactly is your purpose for coming here, other than insulting my late mother’s honour, Balrog Slayer?”

Glorfindel lifted an eyebrow and his expression turned business like. “You need a new identity, am I correct?”

Unprepared for the talk to twist in that direction, Thranduil’s eyes sharpened. Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, “I am interested... but how did you kno...”

“Because I knew you were in the vicinity...” Glorfindel interrupted. “We all need an age upgrade from time to time. Anyway... I do that. Fiddle with data.”

“I fiddle with data, too, so what of it?”

“Yes, but not my kind of... _data fiddling_.” Glorfindel reached out to brush a stray lock of hair behind Thranduil’s ear, but the Elvenking moved out of his reach. “No operation?” Glorfindel asked.

Thranduil looked at Glorfindel’s ears. They were not pointy any more. “No... Although I suppose I could avoid certain questions if I did have them made. Some people think I have a... kink... or am _cosplaying_ \- whatever that is.”

“That you actually had them operated to look like that?” Glorfindel snorted in amusement. “Well, I am glad you haven’t. Seeing your ears is a welcoming remembrance of the good old days. Mind you, mine were severe pointy. I had no choice.”

“I remember.”

“Do you now?” Glorfindel smirked knowingly.

Sighing, Thranduil uncrossed his arms. The endless come ons from Glorfindel were tiresome. “What do you want? Tell me or leave,” he said impatiently.

Glorfindel cocked a hip and Thranduil’s eyes strayed for a short moment. “Let _me_ make you new documents...”

“From the goodness of your heart?” Thranduil asked sarcastically.

Glorfindel straightened and went to stand in front of the Mirkwood king. He took out his smart phone and snapped a handful of pictures of Thranduil. Checking the quality, he nodded satisfied. “Not from the goodness of that part of my anatomy, my dear Thranduil. But you will figure out what the papers are worth soon enough - and then I will come... and collect.” With those words, Glorfindel put his phone away and left his office.

Thranduil closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. The wretched horny dog. 

The infamous warrior had been a nuisance throughout Thranduil’s childhood and youth. His mother had resolutely not been around whenever the Elf came for diplomatic visits to Mirkwood. Much later in his life did Thranduil find out certain things about Glorfindel’s connection to the royal halls of Mirkwood. Amongst those that at some point, he had an unknown claim King Oropher had to honour. What that particular claim was about, Thranduil didn’t know. He only knew that his mother never cared to pretend not wanting to be present during the Balrog Slayer’s frequent stays at court.

Now, the thought still nagged. Why Glorfindel possibly would stick around the birth of a baby in a secluded Realm? The ancient puzzle of why Thranduil’s hair was so light when neither King Oropher nor his queen, Thranduil’s mother’s, had been. Not that Thranduil remembered ever asking, just another secret among the biggest of them all: Thranduil’s mother had been intersexual; a rarity that she had passed on to Thranduil himself. 

The Elvenking had always imagined his grandfather must have been blond and recalled seeing a portrait of an Elf with long golden blond hair somewhere in the many halls. At some point during his youth the painting was taken down. Thranduil hadn’t thought to ask who the image represented until after his parents passed on. By then, nobody remembered.

But Glorfindel’s hair was without question blindingly silvery blond. For all Thranduil knew, the painting could have been of him.

When Thranduil married his queen, they tried for children for many centuries before they had to accept the fact that she was barren. Their only child Legolas was a result of Thranduil’s decision to impregnate himself and go through a dangerous childbirth he might not even survive. Only by the skilful hands of the royal surgeon, did both father and son survive the difficult delivery.

Legolas was their pure joy in life, a lovely and loyal son. Had their world not fallen apart, Thranduil imagined his son would have been a worthy king if by Elbereth, his own life would have come to an end, and he would have left for the Halls of Mandos. But that never happened and instead, Legolas travelled to the Undying Lands. The ocean had always fascinated his son and eventually, he had made a choice. Thranduil tried not to dwell on how much he missed his family. He would always miss his wife no matter how many millennia passed. The way he missed Legolas was an entirely different emotion. He had carried his child in his womb, and almost sacrificed his life in the process of bringing him his. Their relationship hadn’t always been easy, but perhaps they were too much alike. But Thranduil’s love for Legolas was unconditional and forever. 

All his life, Legolas called his parents by their rightful titulation. Only after the queen passed away, did Legolas call Thranduil ‘mother’ when they were just the two of them. Thranduil had been amused by this. It was their private joke.

Coming to his senses, Thranduil decided Glorfindel was just messing with him. Of course the Elf wasn’t his father. Had he known his mother’s condition, the Noldor would have had an opinion about it if he’d been intimate with her. He simply wouldn’t have been able not to brag of this special conquest. Thranduil decided to forget about it, since these thoughts were futile. 

The events happened nearly five millennia ago.

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

Ever since he stopped playing detective with Emerson Cod and waking the dead on purpose, Ned Edwards had lived happily with Chuck for a few years. They had long since come to terms with not being able to touch, and their relationship was now more like sister and brother than lovers. Two years ago, she found someone else, got married in a hurry, and moved away. It was devastating for Ned, but in the long run it was for the best for Chuck. In the latest news from her, she was expecting a baby and Ned was happy for her.

One night ‘The Pie Hole’ burned down for the second time, and Ned didn't want to rebuild it. There were too many memories attached to the place. Making a new pie restaurant would be an empty shell to memories that couldn’t be recreated from a new interior. To his friends’ dismay and sadness, Ned wanted to pack his bags and go live someplace else as soon as the insurance money was at his disposal. Only, Ned was technically challenged when it came to computers. So when he applied for a passport and was told that his identity was stolen, he felt lost and went to the police for help.

How it was even possible to have one’s identity taken from you didn’t make much sense, since Ned was right there next to the police woman who looked at him impatiently. Ned had been passing through their rapports a little too often the last ten years, which he shouldn’t have to apologise for, since he had been most helpful in solving police matters. So, the woman knew exactly who he was, which was an insurmountable advantage. At least, he wouldn’t have to prove to her who he was in order to get a temporary passport. 

Every official part of Ned’s identity had to be restored. Once that had been established, Ned claimed, “I’m grateful for your help. As you can imagine my sense of justice has been compromised, and I want to know who was behind the scam. They deserved to be charged for their crime.”

“Uhu... Well, Ned...” the ever helpful Officer Hubpit said, and tapped a pen to her temple. “What we’ve been able to establish at this point is that someone in England is borrowing your name right now. Hopefully not the king,” she snorted.

“They don’t... have kings in England... at least not right now,” Ned said, because he couldn’t help correcting a blatant misconception like that. However, little did he know how right the woman was in some sort of way... at least regarding which kind of person who had Ned’s identity now. “What can you do about it?” he then asked.

“Not much. There are a lot of Edward Edwards in England.”

Ned nodded slowly. Of course there was bound to be... and one of them pretended to be Ned. “I have to go there and talk to them.”

“All 4,364 of them?”

“That many?” Ned gasped.

“Well, look at it this way... in the US, there are 26,826 men named Edward Edwards... so everything considering, 4,364 is doable.”

“Doable?” Ned repeated. Then he shook his head to clear his thoughts. “What do I do when I find him?”

“Press charges and let the police do their job, Ned Edwards!” Officer Hubpit almost growled. “Since ‘Brexit’ we cannot intervene with the Schenge-Shenge...” she waved her hands trying to remember exactly what The European Schengen Agreement was about. “We could track down this loser’s IP addy... but we’re not allowed to,” she added with a small amount of glee which was infuriating, but Ned was a nice person for a reason and smiled tightly. 

“IP addy?”

“Yep,” Officer Hubpit said and dismissed him.

“England...” Ned turned to leave but then went to ask one last question. “Officer Hob...pit, for exactly how long has my identity been stolen?”

Officer Hubpit looked at him for a few moments and said kinder, “A month or so.”

“Could I have this IP address, if it’s not asking too much?”

“Ned... it’s in the file.”

Ned looked at the manila folder he was holding in his hand. Of course. He’d figure it out later.

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

“This arrangement was a onetime only, Glorfindel,” Thranduil said, as he greeted the warrior by his door. “This is where I work. At least respect that.”

“I like this part of town. Perhaps I should buy some property here? I don’t feel we are quite done reminiscing, Thranduil darling.”

Thranduil just stared at the Noldor Elf. He was painfully attractive, but the aloofness and arrogance he reflected were too much alike Thranduil’s own, and his company made the Elvenking feel nauseous. The sexual innuendoes constantly spilling from the Elf’s lips were exhausting and testing Thranduil’s patience, when he wasn’t interested in the first place. 

“I am partial to this part of London myself. Alas, I can only live here every twenty years or so, then I relocate back to my other place and renew my contract in whatever name I identify by at the moment.”

“A nuisance I’m all too familiar with myself. However, that is the cross we tolerate for being immortal,” Glorfindel said in a lowered voice.

Thranduil wasn’t moving a centimetre, even though it was obvious that Glorfindel wanted to come inside. “I have my papers, so fuck off.”

Glorfindel looked delighted at Thranduil’s modern language and smirked. “I bet you are still horny. You sure had a need to unload a lot of pressure last time I visited you, _Mr. Edwards_.”

Unfortunately, Thranduil couldn’t disagree on that. 

*

His thoughts drifted back to when Glorfindel came by the gallery with new papers to present to him. He had to send Mrs. Thurman home and close the shop. He didn't need any interruption to whatever was going to happen next.

“Let us step into my office,” Thranduil said with a slight incarnation of his head.

Glorfindel stepped up behind him and put a hand on the back of his head. He followed the motion along the thick blond braid down Thranduil’s back and to the elaborate Elvish designed clip holding the beautiful hair in its place. With a quick snap, he unleashed the clip and Thranduil’s heavy braid fell apart. 

Turning around Thranduil looked at him murderously. “Do not even think of collecting before I have approved the papers,” he warned and held out his hand for the hair clip.

“They are legitimate,” Glorfindel guaranteed and gave back the clip.

“Oh, I am sure _you_ think they are.” Thranduil reached out his hand once more, and Glorfindel gave him an envelope.

Thranduil whipped his hair impatiently behind his back and sat down to drop the contents of the envelope on his desk. Out fell a passport, a driver’s licence, National Insurance card, and two credit cards of Thranduil’s choosing. “How did you do this?”

“I am just that good,” Glorfindel said with pride.

Thranduil nodded. All the pictures needed on the documents were different, and so was the cadence of Thranduil’s signature to make sure they looked produced at different times and not all at once. A nice detail and all in all an immaculate job.

Still a validation was needed, and Thranduil went on line to check the authentication of his identity on every instance. While the Mac booted, he shot Glorfindel an irritated look. “Edward Edwards? I wished you could have found a more original name.”

“Cannot be too picky. Besides, this fellow even resembles you.”

“Resembled, you mean...” Thranduil said. 

“Resembled, of course.”

When Thranduil cross checked, his access abilities to official records were air tight. “This is solid work, Glorfindel,” Thranduil acknowledged that much.

“Thanks. As much as I find this office intriguing, I would rather shag you in your bed,” Glorfindel said matter of fact.

“What ever happened to a million pounds?” Thranduil asked dryly.

“Have all the millions I could possibly be bored to spend,” Glorfindel said. “Shagging you, however...”

“Let us hope I am not your son, then,” Thranduil said just to get an emotional reaction. There was none.

“Makes no difference to me. I would still shag you.”

And the Balrog Slayer did.

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

Once they had reached Thranduil’s house, Glorfindel went for him. Expecting nothing from the warrior, Thranduil was glad he’d come prepared. From the moment the phone call came in that Glorfindel would come by that day, Thranduil had taken his precautions in advance knowing Glorfindel could never be anything other than an egoistic top. Besides he was not interested in Glorfindel finding out about his intersexual secret.

As he lay naked on his stomach on the bed, waiting for the onslaught of pointless Alpha driven sex to begin, he was surprised when Glorfindel knelt next to him; taking the initiative to actually prepare him with lube. 

“You do not have to do that,” Thranduil hurried to say. “I am ready.”

“I insist that you won’t get hurt,” Glorfindel said.

“I am touched by your concern, Balrog Slayer, but I decide if I want your fingers inside me or not!” Thranduil almost growled.

Glorfindel chuckled delightedly. “Feisty... I like that. Very well then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You did not. So why would I get hurt?” Thranduil muttered. 

Glorfindel took off his clothes and sat down on the top of Thranduil’s thighs.

Thranduil could feel his eyes on his skin and hoped the Noldor would just get on with it so the transaction would be over. Instead, Glorfindel’s hands began kneading his buttocks and a few slaps landed on the soft skin.

“Really?” Thranduil asked incredulous. “I am not into bondage.”

“You are so boring, Thranduil.”

“Tough for you, then.”

“Just plain vanilla?”

“I never promised you an adventure.”

“No... but you’re not allowing me to give you one either.”

Thranduil closed his eyes. No. He wasn’t allowing Glorfindel anything. He didn’t need the Elf to complicate anything or disrupt his ordinary secure life. Thranduil was doing fine and liked his uneventful life. 

The sheets gave off a crisp sound as Glorfindel got off his legs and moved further down the bed. Quickly, Thranduil looked over his shoulder to assess what the other Elf was up to. Glorfindel reached out to spread Thranduil’s cheeks.

“Stop,” he told him.

“No,” Glorfindel said and stuck out his tongue and licked a stripe across his puckered hole.

“Spread your legs and give me some space,” Glorfindel asked and kneaded Thranduil’s mounds in his hands. A kiss was pressed against a cheek close to the crease under it.

Thranduil’s pulse escalated. “I cannot do this,” he gasped close to panicking.

“If you’re worried about your cute little secret, don’t bother.”

Thranduil’s eyes widened in horror, but Glorfindel was quicker and using Thranduil’s hips, he twisted the Elf around on his back and spread his legs. Thranduil was too shocked to process the implications of that action. There were too many. 

Glorfindel moved up close and pushed Thranduil’s knees up exposing his secret. “Silly Thranduil,” he purred and put his lips against Thranduil’s inner thigh. “Silky. You were always so smooth and we both know why.”

Thranduil could feel sweat break out from the stress he went through. Glorfindel stopped talking and just observed Thranduil's emotional journey.

“You have always known?” he asked the older Elf.

“I witnessed your birth. Of course, I’ve always known.”

“By Elbereth...” Thranduil closed his eyes. The sound of crackling plastic had him open his eyes again, and he saw Glorfindel expertly tear open a condom wrapper and pull it on his stiff cock.

“Can’t have you pregnant, can we?” Glorfindel said and winked. Those words had Thranduil shake out of his stupor and try to twist off his partner. But Glorfindel had anticipated his reaction and wrapped his hand around Thranduil’s throat, effectively immobilising him. “Calm down, Thranduil. I’m not doing anything you won’t agree to.” 

Thranduil stopped fighting him and forced himself to relax. After all, he had agreed to this contract and he didn’t think Glorfindel would actually hurt him. Glorfindel then took his time drenching a couple of fingers in lube. 

“Coming from you, I find that difficult to believe,” Thranduil couldn’t help accusing.

“I intend to prove it to you,” Glorfindel said and his hand began exploring his main target. 

“You have high regards to your own prowess.” Not that Thranduil wanted to know anything about Glorfindel’s sexual trysts, but instincts were hard to suppress at times. “When was the last time you had sex?” he asked, and groaned uncomfortable when Glorfindel’s finger expertly found his pleasure spot from his backside.

“Two nights ago. What is it to you?”

“Whom with?” Thranduil asked to see if Glorfindel hesitated.

He didn’t.

“Mrs. Thurman. Your stunning adulteress secretary just couldn’t keep her knickers on for me,” Glorfindel said.

Thranduil snarled but when he saw Glorfindel’s wicked smirk, he knew he’d been had. “Oh, how I wish that Balrog consumed you, Glorfindel. You are just... “

“Just what?” Glorfindel asked, infuriatingly amused.

“For one - a complete arsehole.”

“And two?”

“Well, there is none. My first option covers your personality quite sufficiently.”

“Sorry. I never touched the woman. I am sure she would be willing, though. You probably thought she could be a match for you, but you had to remember that humans die so quickly.”

By Elbereth, Thranduil knew this, but he let it pass. Mrs. Thurman had never been someone Thranduil wanted to date. She was already married with a child when he employed her.

Glorfindel just chuckled and began massaging Thranduil’s prostate. 

The Elvenking arched wildly. It was too much. “Uhhh, it hurts...”

“Out of practise?” Glorfindel said. His lashes were low in obvious interest. “Not getting any regularly?”

Thranduil grit his teeth. His cock pushed against his stomach stupidly eager for this, his female opening felt moist, and his brain was a wreck of different feelings. This blitz of pleasure was conflicting with his initial wish not to enjoy any of it, and hoping that Glorfindel would collect his debt fast enough and leave. 

“Touch yourself...” Glorfindel told him.

“No,” Thranduil refused. He wasn’t supposed to take pleasure in this; posing wantonly for Glorfindel was out of the question.

“Fine. Have it your way – some of the way. Valar... You are so...” Glorfindel smiled. “So... intriguing. I bet your little pussy is as tight as your arse definitely is.”

Thranduil licked his dry lips. “Get it over with. I do not care how you find me.”

Glorfindel was cleverer than just getting it over with, and began a wicked tapping pattern against Thranduil’s sensitive gland. Sparks erupted behind the Elvenking’s eyes, his self-control faltered completely when out of the blue he came hard. A moan of surprise followed, as his seed gushed messily across his taut stomach. His knees lifted automatically and his neck arched. He hadn’t even needed to touch himself.

With a weak whimper, his eyes opened. He had no idea how much time had passed, but Glorfindel’s fingers were still inside his rear albeit with slowed down ministrations. The ancient warrior was watching Thranduil, as he tried to catch his breath. 

“You are more than ready,” Glorfindel said quietly, “You are a vision. I knew that in the throes of passion, you would be nothing but glorious. Since you came of age, I always wanted to take you and pull you out of that cold demeanour. You have never fooled me with that aloof, icy act.”

“And you are ludicrous,” Thranduil replied, embarrassed by what the Balrog Slayer’s words did to him. He felt beside himself as shudders continued to course through his nervous system.

Positioning himself, Glorfindel jacked his cock a few times before pointing it at Thranduil’s barely-there pussy, revealing its taut wet lips between his balls and anus. “Wrap your legs around me.” 

With a little help from Glorfindel, Thranduil managed to do it and then the Noldor gently pushed inside until their bodies connected.

Well, it had been decades since Thranduil had sex this way. Where sex was something private and treasured between partners, nowadays everyone seemed to sleep with whoever they fancied. Sex was used in advertising, books, movies, and the internet; intentionally sold in these days as a common commodity, like it always had been since the beginning of human history. People didn’t shy away from demonstrating affection and beyond that in broad daylight. 

Sex was imposing and omnipresent.

Also on Thranduil’s Mac.

But he’d never admit that. 

Thranduil had slept with men in the past. After his wife passed away, he didn’t want to soil her memory by remarrying or even just having casual affairs with other female Elves. Instead, the king turned to secretly enjoy the occasional hook up with attractive males coming to Mirkwood. The list of names wasn’t particularly long, and these selected lovers tended to die of old age taking their discretion with them to the grave.

Only because he knew his secret, did Glorfindel truly surprise Thranduil. Especially because he knew, the Elf’s determined passionate thrusts aimed to give Thranduil pleasure he’d forgotten he used to enjoy. It was just the wrong entrance. 

With closed eyes, Glorfindel came uttering a measured groan and stilled his movements. Then he checked Thranduil’s state of arousal and asked, “You did not come?”

“No. Your prick missed its target,” Thranduil said dryly. It was true, so why not rub that in his face?

Smirking, Glorfindel took hold of Thranduil’s cock, but the Elvenking stopped him. “No, thank you,” he said. 

Changing direction, Glorfindel’s hands went up Thranduil’s body instead, and his palms skirted over Thranduil’s small erect nipples. A moan escaped him and Glorfindel slipped out. Moments later, he worked his re-hardening cock into Thranduil’s arse and the sensation was staggering. Thranduil’s breath hitched treacherously and centimetre by centimetre Glorfindel got deeper inside. 

Instinctively, Thranduil closed his eyes and corrected his grip around Glorfindel. 

“Come on. Give me something,” Glorfindel said and swivelled his hips slowly, as his rigid cock slipped in and out with ease.

“No. You are just not turning me on,” Thranduil lied. Glorfindel’s cock was big and so solid. The Elf felt incredibly good between his legs.

“By the Valar, you play hard to get,” Glorfindel chuckled and pinched Thranduil’s nipples. The Elvenking gasped and arched his chest against his will; the Balrog Slayer be damned.

“You like that, yes? Nipple play?” Glorfindel purred with peaked interest and spread his hands to massage Thranduil’s taught pecs. “Did you nurse your little baby boy with these pink beauties?”

“Like I would let you know?” Thranduil said but bit his lip, refusing to join Glorfindel’s fondness for dirty talk. He felt delicious heat spread in his body and finally nodded; deciding to empty his thoughts and get something out of this encounter after all. Lifting his arms above his head, Thranduil tightened his fingers around the edge of the mattress. Renewing the grip his thighs still had around Glorfindel’s waist, he pulled in the Balrog Slayer in a slow tempo after his next withdrawal.

Giving a small groan of his own, Glorfindel slid his hands over Thranduil’s shoulders and the back of his neck. In a surprising move, he pulled up Thranduil so his fingers slipped free of the mattress. Now he was sitting in Glorfindel’s lap. 

“Look at me, Mirkwood King,” he commanded and got his wish fulfilled when Thranduil’s tempestuous grey eyes found his. The warrior leaned back a bit to accommodate their knees but the connection wasn’t deterred by it. Glorfindel inclined his blond head and took Thranduil’s lips; dominant and unforgiving. 

He fucked into Thranduil, and the younger Elf let go of the last of his annoyance by the whole arrangement. He rode the Noldor with everything he had while kissing him back; responding with a longing he didn’t know where it came from.

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

The memory of that passionate unreal afternoon faded, when Glorfindel moved past Thranduil and entered his gallery. Thranduil had to admit that the several hour-long tumble in bed had been better than expected once he decided to fully participate. Still, that didn’t mean Glorfindel could show up unannounced once more, and act as if they now had an ‘agreement’. They didn’t.

“I have some intelligence you might want to hear.”

“No, that it quite superfluous. I cannot imagine I will ever require your service again, Glorfindel,” Thranduil said.

“This concerns delicate information of your heritage.”

Shaking his head, Thranduil said, “You are playing mind games, and I do not care for it.”

“This information is for free, Thranduil Oropherion.”

Thranduil looked at him, dubious, and not in the mood to deal with Glorfindel’s methods to wheel him in. “Spit it out or leave.”

Glorfindel chose to spit it out.

“Your parents couldn’t have children on their own. Back then there were no methods or knowledge as to why. Circumstances just were. But I had fathered children and your father knew. So he asked me to do the honour.”

Thranduil’s mind spiralled at hearing the strange news. “You must be jesting! You were nothing but a mere Lord of Gondolin,” he said. “Surely this is a joke?” His claim didn't sound like the Noldor knew that Thranduil’s mother had been intersexual, too.

Glorfindel shrugged smugly. 

All Thranduil could do was stare at the Elf. For some reason, he believed the Noldor would have no qualms bedding his own child, if he had spoken the truth. That Glorfindel was adopted, was common knowledge, he was a Vanyar to the house of Gondolin. Who knew where his real ancestors came from? But Thranduil needed more information without revealing the facts he carried close to his heart for his own safety. All he could ask was, “You made my mother with child?”

Stepping closer, Glorfindel reached out to touch Thranduil. “Yes. How else could you get this beautiful hair? Certainly, not by your father. Understand that it was a consensus request. He watched us the whole time. That was one of my terms.”

It still made little sense, but a tiny bit if doubt persuaded Thranduil not altogether to leave out the possibility. “You are preposterous. No wonder my mother _despised_ you.” 

“Afterwards, of course she resented everything that I represented. You know what she was...” 

That bit of information left Thranduil shocked. Did this mean Glorfindel knew? He still wouldn’t acknowledge Glorfindel’s information. He had to keep those facts to himself or the Balrog Slayer would use it against him... whatever it was he really was after.

“In fact, neither the king nor the queen were particularly taken by my _passion_ during the act.”

Thranduil sent him hateful looks that he didn’t care to conceal. He abhorred the feelings that Glorfindel ripped out of him from his indifferent account of how Thranduil was conceived.

“The little Sindar bastard you’ve always been became the proof of your father’s incompetence to sire his own heir. You look like your mother in every other way, so no one dared mentioning anything about your spectacular hair.”

Thranduil’s hands were shaking from the adrenalin rush of bitterness coursing through his veins; the possible unjust circumstances that were the proof of his entire existence. “They never told me,” he hissed and turned his back on Glorfindel. The Elvenking felt utterly betrayed by his own parents, and there was little he could do to have that feeling redeemed since they died so long ago. At least, he had always been truthful toward Legolas about how he came into this world. No one could use that against them.

“Oh, I would have been happy to enlighten you any time, but it wasn’t my story to tell,” Glorfindel said, “Perhaps they thought you would figure this out by yourself. I dare say that you did, yes?”

Thranduil couldn’t contain his anger, and his body temperature was stressfully high. “I will demand a DNA sample to have this matter confirmed. For now, you are leaving before I do something rash. I will gather the rest of this foul-smelling narrative myself.” He stared at Glorfindel with pure venom, and finally lost control when he spewed, “Leave me the fuck alone! You incestuous, self fucking righteous, egocentric piece of fucking...!”

“Excuse me?” a timid sounding voice interrupted and both Elves looked at the door where a tall, young, brunet man stood wringing his hands. 

Whistling lowly, Glorfindel slipped away leaving Thranduil to deal with... more complications.

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:


	2. Chapter 2

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

When Ned arrived in London, he had nowhere to stay and checked in to a cheap student hotel since the insurance money from the Pie Hole was still due to be paid out. The following day, he contacted a law enforcement colleague of his friend Emerson Cod’s. After presenting him with the evidence he’d been able to gather in America, the British police man, Inspector Evans, agreed to help him try and locate the perpetrator who had unlawfully stolen Ned’s identity.

By some sheer luck, the thief was online when Inspector Evans crosschecked the IP address Ned had brought along, and it was easy to locate an actual address right there in London. Lucky Ned.

“How easy was that?” Ned proclaimed looking forward to getting his identity back and not having to look up 4,000 men and knocking on their doors. “So how does this work, Inspector Evans?” he asked.

“You just sit tight, Mr. Edwards, and we will apprehend this individual,” the inspector said.

“But didn’t Emerson... I mean Mr. Cod tell you that I’m quite capable to assist in any police...”

“Oh, he sure did, Mr. Edwards. Like I said, have a cuppa, await further instructions, and no one will get harmed while I do the actual investigation, all right?”

“Sure...” Ned replied disappointed. After all, he was the one who had done all the preliminary work just for this character to reap all the glory by typing a simple IP address into a computer. “Would it be a bother asking for a cup of coffee instead?” Ned added, but Mr. Evans had already left the room, and nobody seemed to literally be making Ned a cup of anything. 

Ned waited for a few minutes and nothing happened. Well, that was simply a waste of time. Making sure no one was watching, Ned inched closer to Inspector Evans’ computer. The screen was still showing the assumed home or work addresses connected to the fake Mr. Edwards. Ned wrote all of them down on a piece of paper and got up and left the police station.

The first one was on Bayswater Road. It was a terribly long road, and the house number Ned was looking for was somewhere in between the many hotels and official looking buildings. Ned thought about taking a cab, but realised that he was in a close enough walking distance and skipped the drive to save money. 

When he came to the actual address, the name on the door wasn’t Edward Edwards at all, and Ned wondered if Inspector Evans knew what he was doing. “Henry Bishop...” Ned frowned and scratched the back of his neck. Now what? He couldn’t very likely bother a person who wasn’t even named Edward Edwards. He would have to get back to that one.

Checking the next address on his note, Ned was in for a long walk, but it was a beautiful afternoon, and he had the time on his hands. His journey took him to an interesting part of London on Jermyn Street with many small and remarkable old shops. When Ned reached the address, he was looking for, he found a gallery selling a variety of art with no visible price tags. Ned disliked shops with no price tags. They usually catered to customers who needn't have to ask. Well, Ned wasn’t here to ask for the price of any of the art objects this store had to offer. He was in search of the owner themselves. 

Looking up at the exterior of the shop, he read an old-fashioned sign proclaiming that this was ‘The d’Oro Thran Duil Art’s Gallerie’. Ned stepped closer to the toned shop windows and peeked in shielding the sunlight with both hands for a better view. This didn’t provide him with any advantage, so he figured he might as well rip off the bandage, step inside, and see what happened.

When he entered the shop, there was no one greeting him, but he did hear voices. A quick look around instantly told Ned that the interior of the shop matched the exterior. Clearly, this was indeed an old shop selling very old things, probably to very old people. Ned sensed that the voices became louder and stopped his futile perusing of things he had no interest in buying. Soon, he would be able to confront the imposter and was ready state his claim. Needless to say that Ned was getting nervous.

Putting on his bravest face, he opening the door tagged ‘Private’ and knocked to get the agitated people’s attention.

“Excuse me,” Ned said and stopped talking all together. Well, it wasn’t everyday one saw two stunning, tall men with blond hair vigorously arguing.

One of them brushed past Ned so quickly, he swore he felt the draft for a moment. 

“Who are you?” the remaining one asked bitingly.

“N-Ned,” Ned replied with a gulp. 

“Wait outside,” the man said with great authority, as he looked at him with eyes full of surprising sorrow that touched Ned to immediately obey. Quickly, he went back into the shop. A careful glance around told him that the other blond fellow wasn’t there. He wondered what that argument had been all about, but of course that wasn’t his business. Barely a minute later, the door opened and the man beckoned him back inside the office.

“Ned?” he asked looking less distressed.

“Yes,” Ned said forthcoming, “Ned Edwards.”

“Edward Edwards?” the extraordinary bloke asked more carefully.

“Yes. That would be correct,” Ned said stepping forward. “I was... just... never really called Edward. That was my dad’s name...”

“Edward Edwards, jr. then,” the man stated and a strange twinkle appeared in his eyes. Then he looked away and what seemed to be collecting himself further. “You have come at an inopportune time,” he said.

“My apologies, sir. I would say it is most opportune. Someone has stolen my identity, and I want to accuse the guilty of the deed,” Ned said, making sure that he sounded like he meant it.

“Your identity has been stolen?” the blond man asked and looked closer at Ned. “How can one steal an identity?”

“I don’t know, but it was. It is,” Ned assured him. “Did you steal it?”

Visibly taken aback by the blunt accusation, the blond man nevertheless smiled, and Ned had a peculiar feeling that he had seen him somewhere. Yet, he was quite sure he had never seen him before in his life. “But alas, I have not stolen it.” Cocking his blond head, the man said, “But I know who did.”

“Really?” Ned asked. This was a most welcome turn of events. “Was it Henry Bishop? I went to his address to check it out, but found no evidence just from looking from the outsi...”

The blond man narrowed his eyes. “Who is Henry Bishop?” he interrupted.

“Oh, I thought you might know him.” Ned shrugged his shoulders. “You see, I don’t know who he is. He wasn’t at home so I could ask.”

“What was this address you’re talking about?” the blond man asked and stepped close to Ned.

Ned didn’t like that. He felt intimidated by the man’s impressive charisma. As he took one step backwards fumbling with the note in his back pocket, the blond man copied his action and followed, continuing to invade Ned’s personal space. “Just a moment and I will get it for you,” he said and turned his back at the man.

“Here it is,” he said and turned around again only to find the man still standing close. They were of identical height. Ned felt a little out of breath because the man was eerily handsome, and the pie maker was not in the habit of making such observations about other men. Yet, if something deserved being praised, Ned believed to acknowledge that.

“You are a very handsome man... sir,” he said, “but that is irrelevant, and I apologise.”

The bloke barked a laughter that startled the both of them. “You are funny, young Ned. How old are you?”

“Thirty-seven.”

“Really? You do not look a day older than twenty-five.”

Ned put his hand on his cheek. “I-I don’t?”

“No, Edward Edwards. You do not. Maybe even younger.”

Ned was confused. The man was pointing out an awkward flaw that Ned discovered about himself around the time he revived Chuck. Since he’d been fully grown out, Ned hadn’t actually been aging – just maturing. Ned was sure it had something to do with his special gift, but he would never test that theory. Someone else might die in the process. The risk was too high.

“Did you see the person who just left this room when you barged in uninvited?”

“I apologise for that as well, sir. I was only trying to state a claim.”

“To what?”

“My name.”

“Ah, of course. And it is an important claim, Mr. Edwards.”

Ned nodded. He liked listening to the man’s voice. It was almost charming and he felt a little spelled by him. His eyes were icy grey and saw everything. Maybe he was able to read Ned’s thoughts? “Can you read my thoughts?” he asked just to make sure but cursed himself right afterwards. “Of course, you can’t.”

“But the fun to be had if I could, yes?” the man said and chuckled.

Ned swallowed. He was feeling so strange and out of sorts. Stating why he was here had become increasingly difficult.

“The person who left just now is responsible for stealing your identity. I, however, am responsible for receiving it, and for that I am the one to apologise. I was not aware you were not – to put it frankly - dead.”

“Dead?” Ned asked. He most certainly was not dead. “I’m very much alive.”

“I can see that, you imbecile,” the blond said and went to stand by his desk to pick up something.

“How rude!” Ned said and followed him. 

“I know. Look, I merely had these papers for a short while and in you come claiming to be the possessor of them,” the shop owner said annoyed, as he opened a document. It was a passport with Ned’s name on it, but with the other man’s picture.

“That is not my passport. I only have a temporary one. I was in a hurry to get here.”

The blond man rolled his eyes. “You can have all these papers back. Who needs more complication in their lives? I certainly do not.”

Ned took a deep breath. “Why did you do it?”

“That is none of your concern, Edward Edwards... jr.” he sneered.

Ned cleared his throat. “I will press charges against you for this or against Mr. Bishop for...”

The blond’s face was suddenly close up in Ned’s vision, and his cold eyes were unforgivingly staring him down. “You will do no such thing, Mr. Edwards. To him you are a _peasant_ , a _nobody_ , and he will destroy you.”

“What?” Ned replied and stepped back, shocked by the swift aggressive behaviour from the blond man.

“Hand me the note. Now!”

Fearing what the man might do to him, Ned quickly gave it to him. “No need for that...” Ned muttered subdued.

The blond read the information and copied them to a pad on his desk. Then he gave it back. Looking at Ned for a little while, he said, “For your information, I purchased _an_ identity. Not going for yours particularly. Just someone’s. I imagined this _individual_ had deceased. Alas, Mr. Bishop, presumably, deceived _me_ , making me partition in his criminal act.”

“But deceased or not, taking someone’s identity is still...”

“I know that, but I have no other choice!” the blond said irritably.

Ned bit his lower lip and wished the fellow wouldn’t be so terse about everything. The shop owner watched him with interest, and Ned had to look away. “What do I do? I’m still...” He stopped talking as the other walked around him, regarding him with the same interest from before.

“We look like each other. There are obvious differences, but we could pass for relatives.”

Ned looked straight ahead. They did look strikingly alike.

“Mr. Bishop told me he’d found an identity belonging to a person who bore my resemblance. I must say he was accurate.”

“I have to press charges against someone and hand them over to the police. Although, Inspector Evans will probably be annoyed with me for meddling with these matters. But these matters belong to me, so I think I am entitled to meddle!” Ned said.

“Who is Inspector Evans?” the blond asked, apprehension colouring his voice.

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

Ned looked like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “The police?” he responded hesitatingly.

“The police are on their way... _here_?” Thranduil asked.

“I don’t know. There was no one at Mr. Bishop’s address. Maybe they already tried.”

Thranduil went to his desk and read the third address. He didn’t recognise it, and couldn't give enough thanks to Elbereth that it wasn’t his own. Now at least, he knew where Glorfindel lived. At any rate until he needed to change location.

“I am going to destroy the evidence and clean up this mess. I knew I should not have trusted that ungodly Gondolin Vanyar.” He spent a few moments enjoying cursing Glorfindel with the dirtiest Elvish words he had to his disposal.

Of course, Ned had no idea what he was saying, but once he was done, he could tell that the human had gotten the gist of it. His mouth stood open and his eyes almost bulged. “What?” Thranduil asked lazily.

“Nothing...” Ned looked away.

“You are not entirely annoying, you know...” Thranduil said, wondering if there was some way he could benefit from Ned’s face looking like his own. “Would you like a job here?”

“No. I have no green card. I know nothing about art. Pie baking, however... I’m quite good at that. But anyway, I’m not allowed to stay in the country for long because of my situation. Only because the American Embassy has granted me a visa and a temporary passport can I stay for a while and sort out this mess.”

“So they believe you are who you are?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you here?”

“You need to go to jail.”

Thranduil snorted incredulously. “I cannot. It is... impossible.”

“Isn’t that the same sob story every crook comes up with in court?” Ned asked.

Thranduil took a calming deep breath. “A crook? I suppose that is befitting. But, this is my _sob story_ , Edward Edwards: I do not age... just like you do not. I cannot go to jail and not age.”

There. Thranduil had said it. 

Ned looked stunned at first. “But that isn’t possible.” 

Thranduil understood it was difficult for mortals of the western world to understand that. Granted none of them normally encountered immortals, since they were not keen to reveal their secret. That didn’t mean that the modern man didn’t strive to prolong their lives even if the prospect was feeble. Man was greedy and would only exploit those who had immortality, if it meant they could achieve this for themselves. So it was utmost dangerous to be exposed.

The young man’s expression soon shifted to one of intrigue and, taking a closer look, he began to circle Thranduil. Finally, he came to stand in front of the Elvenking and pointed a finger. “Your ears are so extraordinary. Why do they look like Mr. Spock’s?”

“Mr. Spock,” Thranduil scoffed. “These are Elven ears. I am an Elf. Not a character from a television show.” Though the comparison was quite entertaining, Thranduil thought. Of course, it wasn’t the first time he’d been asked that question, but it had quickly gotten old... as the saying went.

“Can I make sure if they’re real?”

Thranduil sighed. “If you must.”

Ned ran a finger along the edge of his ear, and Thranduil felt a delicate shiver. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“So how old are you?”

“5,000 years give or take.”

Ned snorted. “Only 5,000? I’m inclined to believe you, but intellectually, of course I don’t.” Then a terrifying thought made its presence. “You’re not a vampire, are you?”

Thranduil pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, I am not. Look, Edward... I need papers to support the age I look like. Once I cannot reasonably bear the resemblance to the age society perceives me, or people I interact with suddenly ages faster than me, I have a serious challenge. This happens every twenty years or so. You will run into this problem, too, if you continue to look twenty five.”

Ned visibly gulped, understanding the predicament when it was pointed at him instead.

“Right. You’re terribly right. The town I live in in America, those of my friends who do not know of my gift have mentioned this coincidence...” Ned stopped talking. Obviously, he’d said too much if his floored expression was anything to go by.

“Gift? An immortal gift?” Thranduil asked interested, knowing of sorcery from his life in Mirkwood.

“No.... more like mortal,” Ned quickly corrected. “I am unfortunately born with the gift of bringing back the dead if I touch them. But I have to touch them again within a minute or someone else dies. For whatever reason, I’m not aging.”

“Are you absorbing their life spirit?” Thranduil asked. 

“I don't know,” Ned said squirming slightly. “They have no spirit as far as I can tell, until I do touch them, so wouldn’t it be the other way around? That I should have been aging fast?”

“A valid point,” Thranduil said. Ned wasn’t necessarily as simpleminded as he’d first assumed. And what a fascinating gift to have.

“But it doesn’t excuse taking another person’s identity.” 

Thranduil took a calming breath. So annoyingly righteous that Edward Edwards, but mostly words and no action. He could be controlled. “If they are dead, what does it matter if their identity is borrowed for a few decades?”

“It’s still a crime,” Ned insisted.

Thranduil sighed under his breath. “When the time comes for you to change your identity, Mr. Edwards, how are you going to accomplish that without some illegal help? No matter how they yearn for it themselves, humanity is not equipped to deal with people who cannot actually die. I lived through the dark ages, and witnessed people being burned on a stake if they stood out from the majority, had special skills, or even just able to form a different opinion than those with power. I have been able to escape those darts and it wasn’t ‘a walk in the park’, as they say. The only way is to steal someone else’s identity.”

“But I’m not dead...” Ned said, “So why was my name chosen? And what is your name, if I may ask?”

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

Thranduil was about to answer that when there was a knock on the door. Reluctantly, Thranduil stepped out of his office and saw someone through the glass door that resembled a member of the police to a T.

“Who is it?” Ned asked, standing in the open office door.

“Probably Inspector Evans, whom you inconveniently dragged into this mess. Stay here,” Thranduil said and went to him to close the door. Then he stepped back up to the front door and upon opening it, he immediately inquired, “Who are you, and what do you want?”

Startled by the direct approach, the dark-haired inspector hesitated a fraction of a second. “Hello,” a smooth Welsh accent then greeted Thranduil. “I’m Inspector Evans. I’m looking for Henry Bishop?”

“There is no one of that name here.”

“And who are you?” Evans returned the question, as he grabbed a small pad and pen.

“Mr. Crane.”

“Are you the owner of this shop?”

“No. I’m administrating the art. The owner of the facility is currently Mrs. Thurman.”

“Do you know this Henry Bishop?”

“No. I am not familiar with that _gentleman_ ,” Thranduil emphasised slightly.

“How about an Edward Edwards?”

“No. I do not know that gentleman either.”

The inspector cracked a becoming smile at that titillation. “Would you mind if I take a look around?”

Oh, yes Thranduil most certainly would and was in his right to deny the inspector's request. The only problem was that that could unleash a court order. So allowing the man to get his perusal over with would be less strenuous – had it not been for Edward’s presence. Then Thranduil caught a movement from the corner of his eye and, to his astonishment, he saw Ned standing outside of the building. He must have escaped through the window in the office. “Help yourself,” he said, and invited the inspector to pass the threshold.

“Do you even have a license for this?” Evans said, lifting a tantalising eyebrow.

“Of course I have a licence, which I am sure you have already verified if you know your job, Inspector.”

The policeman wasn’t deterred by that dismissal. “What an interesting collection. Are these imported legally?” he continued his tiresome questionnaire, as he went to examine a rack of swords with Thranduil following sharply. 

“Most of these are handcrafted by local craftsmen. Not imported rubbish,” Thranduil said, putting a firm hand on Evans’ and corporally lifted it away from the blade he was about to touch. “Urine acid from your fingertips ruins the surface. So, if you do not mind, do _not_ touch objects you need not necessarily have to, thank you. Besides, they are razor sharp.”

“Oh – my bad,” Inspector Evans said. “I can point at stuff though, right, Mr. Crane?” he asked and winked. Thranduil frowned. Was the inspector flirting with him? 

“Point away, if you must,” the Elvenking said and decided to break the unnerving situation. He went to his office to look for a leather chord for his hair, when his eyes fell on the desk. The papers were no longer there. So far that was fortunate, because Mr. Evans was entering the office in that moment, and Thranduil had no wishes for him to investigate them with Edward Edwards’ name in them under Thranduil’s picture. The only reason they were gone would be for Edwards to have taken them. He hoped it was for Thranduil’s sake and that Ned would not keep them to give to Inspector Evans. Hopefully, the American could grasp that Thranduil would be an asset to solve his own immortal challenges. That would yet have to be discovered.

“This is a great office. Lots of _ambiance_. Yours, I trust?” The inspector came to stand next to Thranduil; his idea of personal space as unimpressed as Thranduil’s own.

“Get to the point, Inspector Evans,” Thranduil said and lifted a hand to indicate that the man had stepped too close.

Evans smirked and stepped to the open window. Looking back at Thranduil, he explained, “We have a case of a stolen identity on our hands, and all leads point to your shop, Mr. Crane.”

“And whose identity has been stolen since it is obviously not mine?”

The inspector smiled. “We have a complaint from an American citizen named Edward Edwards. The charming lad wanted to travel abroad and came to discover upon applying for a passport and a visa that he didn’t exist due to the theft of his identity. This obstacle has of course been corrected in the meantime, since he is in fact here in the UK supported by the American Embassy. Yet, he is keen on having the perpetrators behind the scheme perpetrated.”

Thranduil couldn’t help smiling. Actually, he liked this Mr. Evans and the way the words rolled off his Welsh tongue. However, the man opposed a threat to Thranduil and unknowingly also to Ned. The poor fellow had had no idea of his own immortality, and Thranduil was sure that Ned saw Thranduil in a different light now that they were in the same boat.

“That is an entertaining and accurately sounding account, Inspector. I only fail to see why you are wasting my time.”

“I had hoped it would be obvious when I showed up. Is this your home address?” Evans asked showing Thranduil a piece of paper matching the one Ned had brought along.

“No. It is not,” Thranduil said.

“Ah, a shame,” Evans almost breathed, “It would have been my pleasure to patrol the area thoroughly...” he winked.

Thranduil almost gasped at the man’s audacity. “You are shameless,” he murmured instead. 

Being propositioned was something Thranduil was used to. Men and women didn’t seem to be able to help themselves but after 5,000 years, Thranduil was a master at avoiding advances when they didn’t suit his tastes. The inspector’s clumsy advances were not in the latter category. Looking into the man’s green eyes, Thranduil saw a bit of Ned’s truly sweet and honourable nature in them, except for the lechery that the Welsh didn’t even try to hide. This particular seducer, however, was clearly looking for a tumble in the haystack. Thranduil was not.

“You would like to be acquainted with my house?” Thranduil asked rhetorically. He knew it was potentially dangerous, but he couldn’t help himself playing a little with the infatuated inspector.

“Would it be worth my time?” Evans asked.

Thranduil snorted, “That is entirely up to you, Inspector.”

Evans quickly licked his lip assessing his options. “Where do you live, Mr. Crane?” he asked as his eyes for the umpteenth time ran over Thranduil’s smart Armani clad figure.

“It is not far,” Thranduil said as he closed the window. Then he went back into the shop with the inspector in tow. He closed business for the day and set the alarm.

Once the two stood outside on the pavement, Thranduil cocked his head towards the police car. “Would you chauffeur your dates in that one? Or is that too unethical?” he asked, subtly manipulating the man to make a decision.

The Inspector looked from Thranduil and to the car, and something must have set off something, because the Elvenking sensed keenly when the man backed off.

“Perhaps I should just... move on to the next address on my list?”

Smirking, Thranduil replied, “Yes. Perhaps that would be a sensible decision. Good day, Inspector Evans.”

“Pleasure was all mine,” the inspector said and watched in awe when Thranduil without further ado turned and walked away from him.

When Thranduil reached the next corner, he heard a sound.

“Pssst!”

That had to be Ned.

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

Thranduil stopped and asked while looking straight ahead, “Is the police car still there?”

Ned chanced a look and craned his neck. “Yes. The Inspector is still looking. He leans against the car and smokes.”

Nodding, Thranduil went to walk with Ned down the street he’d lingered at. He confirmed that Ned was indeed carrying Thranduil’s false documents in his hands. “We can make a short cut from here and to where I live.”

“You want me to go to your place?”

“Where are you staying, Mr. Edwards?” Thranduil asked.

“Um... a student hotel... hostel... um.”

“We will send Mrs. Thurman to collect your things. From now on you are staying with me.” That he'd offer the American lodgings in his own home was unexpected even to Thranduil himself, but as always he kept his face neutral to surprises.

“I am?” Ned asked sounding worried. “Is that a good idea?”

“Mr. Edwards,” Thranduil said patiently. “You have to disappear. You must accept the fact that you cannot live your old life back in America like you are used to. You are going to become someone else.”

“Like you did?”

“Tell me your own immaculate plan for the future.”

Ned’s mouth opened and closed a few times, but he was momentarily speechless.

“Hm. I will come back to this question. You take your time digesting this, Mr. Edwards.”

“Do you have to call me Mr.?” Ned asked.

“No. If that is how you prefer to be addressed.”

“Yes, please. And what is...” Ned stopped talking and Thranduil halted, too.

“What is what?” he asked the young man.

“Your name. What should I call you... sir?” Ned asked.

“Officially, I go by _Thomas Crane_ , but you may call me... Thranduil.”

“Thran-du-il,” Ned repeated slowly with perfect pronunciation.

Thranduil smiled. “And how would you like me to address you, Mr. Edwards?”

“Just Ned, please.”

“Ned and Thranduil.”

“Thranduil and Ned,” Ned parroted.

Thranduil rolled his eyes and continued with Ned walking next to him.

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:


	3. Chapter 3

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London was a lovely capital, and Ned felt comfortable in spite of everything being so big, noisy, but relatively neat; at least where the two were walking. He liked the attention they got from the people passing them. Thranduil was someone people looked at with admiration or awe. There were even a few who said hello to ‘Mr. Crane’, and Ned noticed the tightness to the blond’s face, when he reluctantly acknowledged them greeting his false persona.

“What are you going to do?” Ned asked at some point, looking longingly at the shop windows as they passed a supermarket. “These people can’t suddenly look at you as... well, hopefully not Mr. Edwards but someone else?”

“Unfortunately, I have to move away. I have some other property I have not seen since the last time I exchanged my identity and am in the process of leasing this house.” They stopped in front of an absolutely fantastic three storey house with small leaded windows.

“Is it old?”

Thranduil nodded. “Yes. It is. So is the other house. The tenants have been noticed and by now must leave within a month. I suppose I could have them transferred to this one if they were interested,” he small talked, as he stuck in the key and let them inside the hallway. Then he turned. “Or _you_ could move in...?”

“Me!?” Ned spluttered. “I couldn’t possibly pay this kind of rent.” This was a house for millionaires, and Ned wasn’t a millionaire. Didn’t even know what a million dollars looked like.

“Well, you would not have to. I only pay tax on real property nowadays. Rent has not been due for a long time.”

Ned’s eyes shifted. This was making him nervous. “Live here for free? There must be a catch?”

Thranduil nodded slowly and let Ned inside. “The ‘catch’ is that you cannot age and need to reconsider your options.”

Now, Ned felt decidedly uncomfortable that Thranduil brought it up again. “I’m frightened, Mr. Thranduil Crane,” he admitted. 

The Elf hummed in understanding and then spoke, “Can I offer you something?”

Ned nodded. “Oh, yes please. I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

“My housekeeper will fix something for us, and then we will have a proper talk,” Thranduil said. 

They went through the house and came to a fantastic kitchen. Every appliance imaginable was at the user’s disposal.

Putting his hands together, Ned burst with enthusiasm. “This is so great. What a beautiful kitchen. It has everything!”

“You know about kitchens?” Thranduil asked, looking intensely at Ned.

“I am... or rather I was the owner of a small diner back in America. I baked pies... so many pies. Unfortunately, my place burned down.”

“That sounds fascinating. How about dinners?”

Ned smiled, sensing where this was heading. “I’m pretty sure I could make anything you asked me to.”

“Be my cook then, Ned. I have given my housekeeper a generous notice... same issue as usual... so I would be hiring a new one anyway.”

A thrill made its presence in Ned’s stomach. He was interested. “And be paid?” This might not be such a bad opportunity. Ned had no income and he loved being in a kitchen. Win win...

“We should negotiate of course,” Thranduil said smoothly.

“Living here?”

“If you became my cook already, I would prefer to have you repositioned to my other home.”

“With you then...” Ned said. That was suddenly something different.

“Would that be a problem?”

“No. I don’t see why,” Ned hesitated. “But... what if we don’t get along?”

Thranduil smiled. “I can assure you that there are plenty of rooms to hide in, if that ever became the case. I shall not disturb your equilibrium should you require it.”

Ned nodded. “Fair enough, I guess.” He shrugged sheepishly and embarrassed at even having demands. “So, is the other kitchen this cool?”

“Cooler,” Thranduil replied indifferently, as if he couldn’t care less which had the best gadgets.

“Master Crane. You’re home!” a mousy brunette woman interrupted, as she entering the kitchen.

“Miss Pettigrew. This is Mr. Edwards. He will be staying for a while until I relocate. Prepare a room for him, and we will have dinner as soon as possible.”

“Of course, Master Crane,” she replied.

Ned nodded at the woman, who had no idea he was her replacement.

“Are you allergic to anything, Mr. Edwards?” the lady asked kindly.

“Only if the food isn’t fresh. Otherwise... don't worry about that,” Ned assured her.

“Fresh food. But do you eat cooked food?”

“Yes. As long as the ingredients were fresh,” Ned said with a smile.

“Oh. I’ll see what I can do,” Miss Pettigrew said, looking like she liked a challenge.

Thranduil grabbed Ned around the shoulder and he gasped a little not realising fully that they were of equal height until that moment. That people didn’t have to look up to meet his eye didn’t happen often.

“Come this way. I must contact Mrs. Thurman. We need your luggage brought here.”

“Thanks. That would be great,” Ned said and let himself be steered upstairs to an office on the first floor.

Ned looked around while Thranduil made some calls. The documents he had taken from the office in Jermyn Street were safely put in a drawer.

Mrs. Thurman had been notified to arrange for Ned’s luggage to be brought to Thranduil’s house straight away. Ned had tried to tell him that it wasn’t first priority, but the Elf was adamant to have that matter out of the way as soon as possible.

When Ned’s stomach began to rumble, Thranduil apologised for the waiting. But who was Ned to tell him he couldn’t finish the work he needed having done, just because Ned was his guest?

Then finally, Miss Pettigrew knocked on the door. “Your luggage has been delivered now, Mr. Edwards. I can show you your accommodations if you’d like.”

“Thanks, Miss Pettigrew,” Ned said and left his host alone.

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

When Thranduil entered, Ned was looking at his modest suitcase that Miss Pettigrew had put on the bed in the room she had prepared for him.

“Is everything satisfactory?”

Ned looked around and did a casual inventory of his meagre belongings. “Yes. Nothing is missing. This is a lovely room, by the way.”

“Bathroom is adjacent through that door. You have a small balcony,” Thranduil said and went to open the French doors. 

Ned joined him. 

“Wow... Such a beautiful garden. Who is tending this?”

“The gardener,” Thranduil replied unimpressed. The man was doing the job Thranduil paid him to do. But of course, when it was pointed out how beautiful it was, the Elvenking did appreciate it. Why would he look at clutter? The garden company would be tending this place for as long as they existed, or Thranduil had no need for this house any longer. Whichever came first.

A soft bell was heard.

“Dinner is ready,” Thranduil said and went back inside. Ned closed the doors and followed.

Thranduil studied his companion as they walked down the hallway.

“Come this way,” he said as they passed his dressing room.

Ned entered and gasped when he saw the walk-in closet. It was huge with a titanic collection of outfits. Albeit, most of them were vintage, but Thranduil liked keeping them for history’s sake and therefore he arranged everything thus.

“You can choose anything you’d like. Every thinkable era is represented, as you can probably tell. The last row is about two years ago.”

“You’ve kept _everything?_ ” Ned gasped, as he slid his hand carefully along clothes marked ‘1930-1939’.

“No. Not everything. I evaluate new coming items every twenty years or so. If I think they’re poignant to the era, I keep them; otherwise I give them to charity or theatres.”

“Yeah?” Ned said and smiled. “I usually wear... conservative stuff.”

“Are you conservative?”

“Must be.” Ned’s hands stopped at a Hilfiger suit Thranduil wore twenty years ago. Yuppie era. He even wore fake glasses to look the part. That wasn’t such a bad time. “Can I...?” Ned asked.

“Yes. I am sure it fits like a glove. There are shirts on the rack over here. Era divided should you feel like matching that as well.” Thranduil found that he looked forward to seeing Ned clad in something smarter than the jeans and pullover he wore now.

“Hurry up. Miss Pettigrew has an opinion of people not showing up.”

“All right. I’ll be quick.”

Thranduil smiled and left.

Merely ten minutes later, Ned joined him at the farther end of the table.

“All down there,” Ned said and waved awkwardly at Thranduil, who sat at the opposite end of the dining table.

“So, it would seem,” Thranduil said cutting into his food.

“Do you ever entertain that many people?” Ned asked, “...that they would require a table this long?”

“No. Not anymore. Occasionally, I hold a banquet. Only the people I would like to invite have a tendency of dying on me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Unfortunately, that cannot be helped. Would you like to sit closer, Ned?” Thranduil asked. He wouldn’t mind that.

“If it’s allowed,” Ned said.

“It is. Bring your plate up here and let us talk.”

After Ned was done arranging himself, he looked expectantly at Thranduil who cracked a smile.

“I suppose I should be the one to start.”

Ned nodded and sipped a bit of wine. 

“I come from lands far from here that I cannot imagine exist anymore. I was born in the civilized kingdom of Mirkwood. We were surrounded by an ocean of trees roamed by wild dangerous creatures and animals. Hazards or adventure were hard to distinguish. I lived amongst people of my own kind. Not destined to die of age. There were centuries of war and peace with humans, dwarves, and small people called Hobbits. I had a wife, a son, but neither is here with me.”

“What happened to them?” Ned asked.

“My wife died, and when it was time to leave Mirkwood, my son wished to go to The Undying Lands instead of travelling west with me.”

“He went there willingly? So, he didn’t die?” Ned asked frowning his thick brows trying to follow what Thranduil was saying.

“Legolas? No. The Undying Lands are... Well, Valinor is kind of a non-stop vacation in Baja.”

“Hmmm...” Ned said and shrugged. He had never been there. Not even Florida. At least, Legolas would be safe in a land where people don’t die. He was quite certain people in Florida only lasted a normal lifetime.

“I did not feel the call to follow the Elves who went there. Others simply decided to leave and see what else the world had to offer. So, when there no longer was any reason to rule my people...”

“Rule?” Ned interrupted. “What were you back there?”

“A King. I was ruling my people as a king.”

“Oh, my god,” Ned gushed. “With a crown?”

“Calm down, Ned,” Thranduil smirked. “I was not your king. No need to become struck with awe.”

“But still, it’s something!” Ned insisted. “Like a celebrity!”

“If you say so. And it was something, yes. Until it was not. I did not abandon my people. My people did not abandon me. At the time, it felt like a mutual understanding that neither of us had more to offer each other. Perhaps, my kingdom abandoned all of us. I would never dare to go back. I do not wish to see how ruined it surely must be after so many centuries unattended.”

Ned looked ravished with attention. Thranduil chuckled and poured wine from a rounded bottle. The unusual rounded shape of the flask was returned to its stand designed by Thranduil himself in a decidedly Elvish fashion. Taking a good long sip, he said, “I had my own wine cellar, you know. My own label. I suppose I was a bit of an alcoholic back then. Mind you, there were many months, years, when I had too much time on my hands. The days blurred and life could get boring between battles.” Thranduil sipped some more wine and wondered why it felt good to tell Ned these rather personal things of his past. Ned Edwards held no malice or threats. Ned was quite... sweet.

“I travelled the west. Saw a great deal of disturbing things as well as a lot of potential. I realised the realm I came from had not progressed at all in the last thousand years I spent there. The west, however, had. At times, it was difficult to adapt to the speed of evolution.”

“When did you come to the west?”

“Around 1500 BD; The first time I noticed an actual year was when Christopher Columbus had discovered America in 1492. The news went fast. I lived in Italy at that point and it was staggering for me. My lands were dissolving, and here this explorere discovered _new_ land. I will never forget how astounded I was when I realised that. It was an exhilarating period but also a time in western history heavy with darkness and superstition. I had to be utmost careful not to expose how extraordinary I was compared to everyone else I met. But obviously, I succeeded in surviving. Changing location and identity and not stand out.”

“With those ears?” Ned pointed but caught himself halfway and folded his hands.

“Yes. I wore a lot of hoods.” Thranduil took a bite of food and chewed. “Eventually, I came to England and quickly decided that London was it for me. I had seen enough and had reached a point in my life where I needed long term plans to secure myself. I had made a substantial amount of money making deals and establishing my martial arts weaponry. When the opportunity came, I began selling them.”

“When was that?”

“1780’s. There about. The mafia like methods East India Company dealt traders were brutal. These people wanted their stamp on everything, but they could not pin me down. I was good at dodging their arrows. Figurative and literally.”

“And then you settled in the shop I was in?”

“Well, yes. There were a few shops prior to that one, but basically yes.”

“All right. So, who is the other guy?” Ned asked, resting his chin in his hand.

“The tiresome Mr. Bishop. Well, he is an ancient warrior. Much older than I. He also chose to travel to the west. I am not saying I was always following the law doing what I had to, but Mr. Bishop is out right lawless.” Thranduil felt tired all of a sudden. He’d managed to suppress the stress from today’s earlier revelations, alas with good food and wine in his belly, he decided it was time to retire.

“Ned. It has been a delight getting to know you. I will withdraw to my chambers. Tomorrow, we will continue this conversation.”

Ned scrambled to get up from his chair and smiled. “Thanks for everything. Good night, Thranduil.”

“Goodnight, Ned.”

Shortly after, Miss Pettigrew entered the dining room and asked, “Would you like me to bring you some dessert, Master Edwards?”

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

“Um... sure... Can I take it to my room?” Ned asked hopefully. Miss Pettigrew insisted on bringing it to him.

When Ned reached his room, he waited patiently for the goodies to be brought to him. Luckily, Miss Pettigrew was quick, and arrived shortly after, carrying a tray with two small pots of coffee and tea, matching cups on saucers, and dessert plates. Lastly, an étagère was added loaded with delicious petit fours.

“Oh,” Miss Pettigrew said. “I thought Master Crane would be joining you?” she basically assumed.

Frowning, Ned said, “Why would he be doing that? He has retired for the evening.”

“Of course,” Miss Pettigrew said with a knowing smile. “Good night, Master Edwards. See you in the morning.”

Ned was confused. The way these people addressed each other was strange. Looking down at his suit, Ned suddenly realised that he shouldn’t possibly hold on to it longer than tonight. The proper thing would be to return it to Thranduil’s closet. If only he could remember which door it was... Quickly, he undressed and put on his sleep attire: a soft t-shirt and pyjamas bottoms. Then he carefully wrapped the suit over his arm and stepped into the hall looking to the left and then the right. All the doors looked alike, but Ned’s door had a chip in the wood next to the top hinge by which he recognised it.

“Well. Only one way to find out.” Walking to the right, Ned pushed down all the door handles to see what was inside. Eventually, he’d stumble across the wardrobe. Most of the doors were locked which made sense if Thranduil was shutting down the house. Those he could enter already had white protective cloth covering the furniture. 

Suddenly, he stumbled into a room that wasn’t locked. Ned took a few steps before he realised that the room was inhabited and it was definitely not the walk-in closet. It was Thranduil’s room.

Ned stood stock still watching as the Elf gradually turned.

“What are you doing here?” he asked quietly.

Ned swallowed with much difficulty. The Elf was naked. So very very naked, and the things the sight of him did to Ned, he couldn't possibly explain. He had never felt like that – only when he was truly in danger and his body would take over choosing the correct reaction. 

Thranduil was gorgeous. Hairless, naked, toned, smooth, naked, wet, _and naked_ \- let’s not forget that detail. Then the Elvenking moved and picked up a bathing towel to wrap around his waist.

“I came to give back the suit.”

“And it could not have waited till morning?”

“No... but in hind sight, I suppose it could,” Ned said. He pointed in the direction of nothing really and explained, “I couldn't find the closet. I meant to put the suit back there.”

Thranduil came closer and Ned felt slightly intimidated. Again, they were eye to eye. Same height even without shoes. 

“You are flustered, Ned. Have you never seen another male naked?”

Ned gulped, his throat was so dry. “Not often, no.” 

“But you have seen one?”

“I’ve also seen a woman naked,” Ned assured Thranduil, “Completely the same thing... just without the uh... you know... o-or maybe _with_ the uh... additional... oh god.” 

Ned looked away, and flushed further when Thranduil chuckled. He was behaving like a boy who had never been exposed to the world outside his hometown of Coeur d'Coeurs... in a way that was correct. He had been living there for too long, and everything seemed like he’d been existing in a world sound and impact isolated by pink candy floss. Perhaps he only realised that when his identity was stolen. That had been frightfully real.

“No wonder Chuck wanted to leave...” Ned murmured his own conclusion.

“Dry my hair, Ned, would you?” Thranduil asked and handed Ned a second fluffy towel from a stack on the padded bench in front of his king-sized bed.

“S-sure,” he obliged. 

Thranduil turned around and shook his hair in place. Ned wondered why his host would need help for this task, since his long hair was almost dry already. But it was such beautiful hair and Ned wouldn’t mind handling it. This was a perfect excuse to actually touch the alluring Elf.

“I sense hesitation in your stance, Ned. Is this bothering you?” Thranduil asked and turned fractionally to catch Ned’s eyes. An elegant eyebrow shot upwards emphasising his question.

“No. I’m not bothered in the slightest,” Ned said as he shook his head vigorously. Boldly he stepped closer. Thranduil smiled and turned his head back in the first position. 

“Good,” the Elf said.

Gently, Ned pressed the towel around the long thick hair and squeezed out what little excess water was left there. “I honestly don’t think there is much left to soak,” Ned said.

“Hmm...” Thranduil said and spun gradually to look Ned in the eye. “Then how about you take the brush from the vanity?”

Ned looked around and saw the most gorgeous furniture most women treasuring their daily makeup regiment would kill to own. Clearly, the dressing table was antique. “How old is that thing?”

“I acquired that ‘thing’ around 1810, I believe.”

“Thomas Chippendale?” Ned asked. He was the only cabinet maker that Ned had ever heard of.

“Why, I am impressed, Ned. Very good. And yes, though this piece is not literally made by Chippendale, but one of his apprentices.” Thranduil had his back to Ned once more. “Please commence.”

Ned bit his lip and applied the brush to the crown of Thranduil’s head.

“From the bottom, dear Ned. Always begin at the bottom. If you start at the top, you will rip out too many hairs.”

Ned shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t know much about that. I’ve always had short hair. Except when I was young. I suppose my hair was below the ears...” Ned would have to consult the only photo album he had with pictures of himself and his family. 

Doing as the Elvenking had instructed, Ned carefully combed the long white golden strands. They caught the light in a way Ned found supernatural. And what was that alluring scent? Thranduil’s body had a distinct fragrance that was even more noticeable in his state of undress.

“What is that body wash you’re using?”

“None specific, Ned. I wish to sit down. Let us move to the bed.”

Ned lowered his arms. “No. That would be... improper. Here...” He reached out the brush for Thranduil to take.

“Improper for whom, Ned?”

“Well...” Ned lifted a finger to be ready when he found the reason why his guts told him that sitting on Thranduil’s bed was a bad idea. It lingered in the air for several moments. “I should go to bed,” Ned finally said.

“If you must,” Thranduil bowed his neck fractionally, as if the gesture was meant as a dismissal of a subject.

Ned gave one in return and he chanced a look at Thranduil who smirked amused back at him. Ned quickly licked his dry lips and left the Elf to deal with his own hair.

Once back in his own room, Ned closed the door too loudly. His body was shaking and he rested his back against the door trying to breathe normally again. Then he locked the door. Against what, he was not sure; maybe to prevent himself from leaving again. In any case, it made him feel safer. He was intensely aware of how boundary crossing the experience had been.

After ten minutes of pacing the carpet, Ned hurried downstairs and raided the fridge before he started baking pies.

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:


	4. Chapter 4

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“Master Crane?” an insistent voice asked, when Thranduil showed up at the dining table ready for breakfast. He’d taken his sweet time doing his morning routine and was now wearing his dressing gown.

“Yes, Miss Pettigrew?”

“Who made all these?” she asked in wonder.

Thranduil looked up. “Who made what? Please clarify.”

“These pies, Master Crane. There are at least six. I fear the pantry is almost empty.”

“Go shopping, then. We cannot risk our fairy pie baker lacking supplies.”

“Yes, Master Crane,” Miss Pettigrew said and left.

Intrigued, Thranduil got up and went to the buffet. The smooth wooden surface was littered in a mouth-watering display of delicious pies. “Who made these delicacies, I wonder,” the Elvenking said. “Which shall I try first?”

“The apple pie,” he heard Ned say just as he entered the room.

Thranduil turned swiftly and saw the young man nearing him, visibly flustered.

“Good morning,” Ned said with a smile.

“Good morning, Ned,” Thranduil replied and smiled back.

Ned’s hand reached behind his head to rub his hair self-consciously.

“I hope they’re good.”

“I am sure you know they are. After all, you are the expert.”

“I couldn’t sleep... I was restless... stressed.”

“Stress baking?”

“Exactly. I’m terrible like that. What’s your stress reliever?” Ned asked, as he joined Thranduil at the buffet.

“Eating stress baked pie.”

“You’re joking,” Ned said with a chuckle.

“You are right,” Thranduil replied. “I do not have many reasons to become stressed these days, but I suppose the constant awareness of having to shift place is latently stressful. I try not to think about it until I cannot procrastinate the inevitable any longer.” 

The two loaded their plates with samples of rich smelling pie before they sat down at the table. 

Ned dared to choose the chair next to Thranduil who smirked at him, liking his courage. “I am glad to see you dare breaking custom,” the Elf said.

“Well, I’m glad you don’t mind. It was rather lonely at the other end of the table last night.”

The young man had coffee in his cup whereas Thranduil preferred tea in the morning. Earl Grey – with a drop of jasmine oil. Putting the cup to his lips, Thranduil blew cool air over the hot surface. Not that it would make the scolding hot tea colder by it, but he liked the motion. “Why not tell me your story, Ned?”

Ned put down his cup and cut a piece of pie to munch on, while he thought about how to begin. “There isn’t much to tell, because there is too much to tell. But if I’m just to tell you about me, then there isn’t much to tell.”

Thranduil thought about that. “Then by Elbereth, do tell the part of not much.”

“Who is Elbereth?”

“Father Christmas.”

“Oh... Does he have a godlike status in the UK?” Ned wondered.

“Not to my knowledge. Do continue. Your mind tends to stray, Ned.”

“I know and I’m profusely sorry.” Ned took another bite. “So, I’ll begin with the beginning.”

Ned proceeded telling about the strangest childhood Thranduil had ever heard of. How unfortunate could a single child be? His blessing was a curse, but that often seemed to be the case with blessings.

“I discovered my gift when I was a young boy. I was playing with my dog Digby when he was hit by a car that day. The driver just continued. When I reached him on the road he was motionless. So, I touched Digby. There was a spark where we connected, and he became alive again. At the time, I didn’t know why. I still don’t...

‘Then my mother suddenly had a stroke and died right next to me, and I touched her. But when she came back to life, my best friend across the street lost her father because... that’s what happens. If I wake a dead, someone else dies if I don’t touch those I awake again within a minute. Unfortunately, I accidently touched my mother again and she died anyway. And then my dad just up and left me. My life wasn’t easy. 

‘Then my best friend Chuck left, but she showed up again when we were older. An investigator figured out what I was cable of and we began to solve murders together. You’d be surprised how many people can do bad things in a small town.”

“No, not really...” Thranduil said, “But do go on. Your narrative is uncoordinated but also utterly fascinating.”

“All right,” Ned smiled. “Well, we were investigating this case... that unfortunately was about my childhood friend Chuck. She had been murdered. She was my first love, Thranduil, and she was dead. You can’t imagine the shock it was when I knew of this. But we found her in the chapel, and I brought her back to life. Usually, I did this just to have the deceased tell me and my partner who murdered them so we could solve the case.”

“For money?” Thranduil guessed.

“I’m honestly not proud of that, but I think it’s fair to say that the dead had their revenge when their killer was put behind bars.”

Thranduil shrugged and dug into a pie. A moan escaped him. It was delicious. “This is delicious, Ned.”

Ned smiled. “Thank you. It means a lot to me.”

Looking up, their eyes met and for once, Thranduil had to look away. “Go on with your story,” he quickly ordered and had more pie. This was close to being better than Elvish Lembas honey bread with whipped cream and purple dúchîr berries on the top... Close.

“Now that I had Chuck back... I couldn’t let her die. I didn’t tell my partner about it but obviously, he found out anyway when the chapel’s undertaker suddenly died.”

Thranduil chuckled. “That is funny. So, you lived happily ever after until Mr. Bishop filched your identity?”

Ned looked unhappy and he took strength in a bite of pie and more coffee. “No. She and I couldn’t touch at all. But god we did everything we could to get close. Kissed with a sheet between us... it was wonderful but also so so sad.” His voice shivered in memory of a relationship doomed from the start.

“That must have been difficult,” Thranduil said.

Nodding, Ned smiled bravely. “Thanks. She took part in our little investigative duo and helped us solve cases. She was so clever. But eventually she found someone else. I didn’t want to stand in her way.”

“She probably can’t die either,” Thranduil said.

“How did you know?”

“You still have your dog, Ned?”

“Why, yes...” Ned winced. “Riiiight. I see what you’re getting at. That little detail was always difficult explaining people I’d known since my childhood.”

Thranduil nodded but wanted to continue a more important issue, “So, you never kissed her?”

“That’s what you remember from this story?” Ned asked annoyed.

“I am sorry,” Thranduil chuckled. “I meant no disrespect. It seemed like that was the part you regretted the most not being able to do.”

“And it’s true. The only people I got to kiss were those I wasn’t in love with. Not that I could count many... but some.”

Despite the sad story, Thranduil smiled. Ned should have had so many kisses in his life that he couldn’t have counted them. Instead, he was trapped in a love that couldn’t requite a single one of them or she would die. Ned’s eyes were filmed over with emotions, and he was biting his lip. Thranduil’s eyes were drawn to those lips for a few moments. They looked... juicy and pink. If only he leaned over, he would catch that pouty lower lip between his own...

“Excuse me Master Crane, but there is a gentleman asking for you,” Miss Pettigrew interrupted after a court knock on the door. “Possibly a relative? He looked very much like you, Master Crane.”

Thranduil stiffened visibly, feeling annoyed by her disrupting the mood, before his features relaxed. This wasn’t his housekeeper’s fault. “Did he give his name?” he asked matter of fact.

“Yes. Mr. Bishop, I believe.”

“Show him in.”

“Shall I leave?” Ned asked.

“No, your nemesis will not stay long.”

Not even half a minute after, Glorfindel strode confidently into the dining room. Thranduil enjoyed too much the instant when the Balrog Slayer halted.

“Why is he here?” he asked not kindly.

“Why are _you_ here?” Thranduil shot back, “I did not give you my address.”

“Pfft. Really, Thranduil? As if figuring out your home address is _actually_ a challenge for me?”

“Is that your excuse for seeking out my home? What do you want?” Thranduil demanded, ignoring the jibe.

“It can wait... Tell him to leave,” Glorfindel said, sending Ned a stare that made the young baker audibly squeak. “You and I have business to attend.” Then he discovered the buffet. His eyes roamed the display of food and uninvited, he went and helped himself to a few pieces of pie and tea. Then he came to sit across from Ned but next to Thranduil’s other side.

“Try not to insult the hand that feeds your mouth,” Thranduil said calmly. 

Glorfindel looked at the food on his plate and to Ned, who corked an eyebrow in sudden confidence. “Whatever,” Glorfindel said and took a bite. “It’s good, by the way.”

“Of course, it’s good,” Ned scoffed.

Thranduil sighed loudly and provoked the Elf to look at him. “We do not have business to attend at presence. However, I do want a blood sample. To prove this postulated lineage of ours.”

Glorfindel snorted. “You actually believed me?” 

Thranduil felt like someone poured ice-cold water over his head. He only managed to reel in a shocked expression on his face before he responded incredulous, “You were fucking _joking_ the whole time?”

Glorfindel’s smirk was infuriating, and Thranduil was so close to getting up and strangle the godless pretentious son of a Noldor whore. The deceiver had deliberately made him worry in agony about the fact that the Vanya had actually impregnated his mother with Thranduil being the shameful result!

“I still want that blood sample and I want to be present when it is drawn.”

“Suit yourself. It’s a waste of time.”

Thranduil went to pick up his phone and called a doctor who had an interesting condition himself that gave him no room to question why his patient didn’t age at all.

“Good morning, Carlisle. I hope I am not disturbing you at this early hour? I am requesting a home visit that requires some blood samples drawn for tests... You can have them afterwards.” Dr. Cullen did so enjoy a good year, and since today was a bit overcast the light shouldn’t provide any attention to his... _skin_ condition as he called it.

Calmly, Glorfindel sat and had his meal while gazing at Ned. The poor man was silent and looked uncomfortable.

“Stop looking at him.”

“He can talk, can’t he?” Glorfindel said.

“You’re an asshole,” Ned said, and Thranduil congratulated him in his mind.

Getting up, Thranduil went to the window. The street was quiet and he felt unsettled. Turning, he looked at Glorfindel. “I need new documents and this time you must prove that the person is in fact dead.”

“I thought you said...” Glorfindel began protesting.

“I did. Nevertheless, I changed my mind. Now I need two sets. One for me and one for Mr. Edwards. You will make it happen, Balrog Slayer. I will pay you in pounds – and nothing else. If you cannot handle these terms, your services are not...”

“Of course, I can _handle_ them,” Glorfindel basically snarled. He got out of his chair so fast it scooted backwards and fell over. Glaring at Ned and Thranduil in turn, he looked like he was about to leave.

“Sit! Down!” Thranduil barked. “The doctor will be here any minute.” His glacial stare finally made Glorfindel pick up the fallen chair and annoyed, he sat down with a theatrical huff.

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

And just like that, Miss Pettigrew announced the doctor’s arrival, when she stepped into the room to show him in. Ned was duly impressed by how efficiently Mr. Crane made things happen, but the Elf always impressed Ned. It was fair to say that the young baker had become a bit star struck the more time he spent with the former Elvenking.

“Thranduil,” the doctor greeted as he quickly ascertained the other people present.

“Carlisle! Splendid. You have no idea how glad I am to see you so soon,” the Elf greeted the new guest with a decidedly meaningful look. As they shook hands, Thranduil continued, “A shame I cannot offer you a slice of Mr. Edwards’ pie, but I trust you look forward to your treat.”

“So hostile this morning!” Dr. Cullen laughed. He’d brought along a trolley carrying what looked like lab equipment and went to put a small medical bag on the table. 

Ned noticed the two Elves didn't even lift an eyebrow. He had to admit he was intrigued about what was going to happen next. That Bishop bloke sure was constantly and infuriatingly passive aggressive; a provocateur who knew how to push people’s buttons.

Thranduil kept close to the doctor, as he opened his bag and brought forth syringes for blood tests. 

“So? What’s the deal?” Dr. Cullen asked.

“A paternity test,” Thranduil said in a clipped voice.

Ned’s lips parted. Now that was interesting.

Frowning in understandable confusion, Dr. Cullen asked, “Between which parties?”

“Between me and that... individual,” Thranduil said and pointed at the other Elf who feigned boredom.

“You lost me,” Dr. Cullen said.

Thranduil looked at Ned who had no clue what was going on, except for how much his host despised Mr. Bishop.

“I want you to confirm whether he is my father or not.”

Dr. Cullen nodded once. “Uhu... Of course...”

“Just fucking get it over with. Don’t have an opinion about it, man!” Glorfindel hissed.

“Do not provoke the good doctor, my dear Balrog Slayer. He might take more blood than you can spare,” the Elvenking said, clearly not giving a damn.

Now, Ned had a pretty great developed imagination and the small hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end. Sneaking a look at Dr. Cullen, he did come across rather pale... like vampire pale. However, luckily for Ned, vampires didn’t really exist.

“Bare your arm, sir,” Dr. Cullen asked Mr. Bishop when a syringe was ready.

Ned’s head was full of thoughts, of assessments, as he tried to understand what was really going on between the two blonds. From Thranduil’s earlier angry blurt, Mr. Bishop had apparently told him that he was his son? The ages of Elves once more astounded Ned, because he couldn’t tell which of the two could possibly be the eldest when they looked the same age. Apparently, neither could the good doctor. 

According to Thranduil’s account, Bishop was the older one if he had made the Elvenking believe he was his father. Ned’s finger found its way to tap against his upper lip. Would that make Bishop a king, too?

Dr. Cullen tightened a rubber string around Bishop’s upper arm, and soon a rich vein popped up in the bent of his elbow. Expertly, Dr. Cullen stuck in the needle and soon blood filled a vial.

“Draw two more vials,” Thranduil said, and the doctor coughed discretely.

Looking intently at the man, Ned didn’t find the doctor paying any specific attention to the blood, and also not like he wanted to sink his teeth into Bishop’s arm.

When Mr. Bishop was done, Thranduil sat down in his chair and pulled his robe over one shoulder. Working his way out of a sleeve, he presented a naked arm to the doctor.

“You can take three from me, as well. We cannot have any mishaps.”

“Of course, Thranduil,” Dr. Cullen said with a smile.

That’s when Ned saw the fangs and he gasped aloud. “Tell me those teeth are just part of a costume.”

Dr. Cullen chuckled. “They’re just part of a costume. I would have worn a cape, too, but the shop was out of Draculas.”

“Good. That’s r-reassuring,” Ned said shakily, his heartbeat a bit too fast right there. “Because there are no vampires...”

Mr. Bishop scoffed. “Can I go?” He looked at Thranduil.

“Not yet. I cannot imagine you are in a hurry, Glorfindel. Ai! Careful with that, Carlisle!” Thranduil said to the doctor, and Ned could swear the Elf was flirting.

“But yours is the best,” the doctor joked.

“Still, three vials are quite enough.”

“Then maybe you should take samples of young Mr. Edwards while you’re at it?” Mr. Bishop said.

“Absolute not!” Ned said, got up, and left the dining room. He hurried down to the kitchen and met Miss Pettigrew.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t do the dishes last night...” he told her, “I was... I was...”

“You look terribly upset, Master Edwards.”

“I am... You can tell?” Ned asked.

“Your hands are shaking, and you look a little pale. Don’t you mind the dishes. Those pies were flawless.”

“Thank you,” Ned said.

“It’s that doctor, right?” Miss Pettigrew then pinpointed.

“Yes. He’s very...” Ned didn’t quite know how to phrase that.

“Emaciated, perhaps?” she suggested.

“At the moment, but later... one never knows,” Ned piped feeling faint.

“Are you all right, Master Edwards?”

“Yes. I’m quite all right,” Ned said, even as he had to sit down on the nearest kitchen chair. Then he looked at Miss Pettigrew. “Why do you keep calling me Master Edwards?” he simply had to know.

“Master Crane told me to.”

“But why would he do that?”

“Now, you know perfectly well why, Master Edwards,” Miss Pettigrew admonished motherly.

“No - I don’t actually.”

But Miss Pettigrew just snickered like a school girl and a light bulb flashed before Ned’s inner eye in sudden recognition.

“Oh... Oh! He wouldn’t possibly insinuate...”

“Master Crane doesn’t insinuate. He states matter of facts.”

“In this case, he’s out of line.”

“This is the first time that the Master has had people in his bedroom… for whatever reason.”

“How do you even know that?” Ned asked almost feeling indecent even though nothing happened.

“A housekeeper knows these things,” Miss Pettigrew said, lifting an eyebrow. “So, may I be the first to congratulate you, Master Edwards. When is the wedding?”

Ned just stared at her like she had grown horns. She could have. Apparently, a good portion of common nightmare fodder really existed, so why not add this?

Miss Pettigrew chuckled. “I’m just taking the mickey out of you, Ned. You can relax now.”

Ned gave a half-heartedly laugh back, but he was relieved she was only joking. His eyes scanned the kitchen and saw that Miss Pettigrew had already been shopping this morning. With a happy sigh, he began opening the fridge and cupboards for supplies.

“What did you think I was implying, Mr. Edwards?” Miss Pettigrew said.

Ned grunted, “I should probably not answer that.”

“You’re a bright kid, Ned Edwards. You know why Master Crane wants you to stick around?”

Ned looked at her sharply. “Yes. But with all due respect, Miss Pettigrew, I don’t think that you do.”

“Oh,” she said and smiled. “Just mind that doctor. He looked mighty hungry when I let him into the house.”

“Stop that!” Ned said and chuckled. “Your sense of humour is really not for the soft minded!”

Miss Pettigrew laughed back. “What are you making? More pies?”

“Maybe,” Ned said and bit his lip. Miss Pettigrew hip checked him. 

“You want an upgrade?”

“Go ahead.”

“I would like to give you four ingredients and see what you can do with them.”

“Like a game show?”

“Yes. Like a game show.”

“You’re on if I can give you four as well and see what _you_ can come up with,” Ned laughed.

They had a deal. The two were set for an hour of fun, where Ned could forget about the tension and complicated problems occupying the dining room.

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

Glorfindel had become restless. Thranduil had his half arsed oral confession, but he wanted the Elf to suffer the scientific evidence that proved they were not related. If they were not, it still didn’t answer the nagging question of whom Thranduil had gotten his blond hair from. The feelings Glorfindel had subjected him to when he said he was his father _after_ they’d had sex were hard to disregard. Thranduil hated him for it, and it was a strange sensation because Thranduil was not in the habit of having feelings for anyone... except Ned. And those feelings were confusing enough as it were.

“Are you sweating?” Thranduil asked as he regarded the Elf.

“Bite me,” Glorfindel said lowly.

“It won’t be long now,” Carlisle said, fiddling with the apparatus he’d brought along that apparently could give them the result right there.

“Take all the time you need, dear doctor. Our revered Mr. Bishop cannot wait to hear the results either.”

“Here we are,” Carlisle said shortly after and pushed a button. This prompted the attached printer, and soon the doctor had the result in his hands.

“Well? Don’t hold your breath, man!” Glorfindel barked.

Carlisle carefully read what it said and gradually he looked at the both of them. “The result is indisputable. The two of you are most definitely related...”

“Uh... Fuck...” Thranduil gasped and had to control himself not to throw up.

“WHAT!” Glorfindel shouted. “I’m not his bloody f...”

“...but not as father and son...” Carlisle added with a smirk, “...more like cousins.”

“By Elbereth! That is not helping, Carlisle!” Thranduil said exasperated at the doctor’s speculations and began pacing.

“Well, I only have these results to go by, Thranduil. So think! What is the likely connection here?”

“Did you ever fuck my mother?” Thranduil asked Glorfindel bluntly, sending him hard eyes.

“No.”

“Then why were you always around? Why did she not like you?”

“Maybe I courted her when we were young. Before your father was born,” Glorfindel said with his annoying innuendo laden voice.

“Before my father was born? Give me a break.” Thranduil frowned. “Wait... how old was my mother? My father was older than her.”

“She was old, Thranduil. Quite old.”

“And you only courted her?”

“Yes. The prudish princess wouldn’t even hold my hand,” Glorfindel replied, once more carrying a bored expression.

“Is this a not-so-subtle hint at telling me you think you have a claim to the throne of Mirkwood?” Thranduil asked drily.

“Do I?”

“Because you once were an old queen’s sweetheart?” 

Thranduil stopped. Something wasn’t adding up. Granted, he had no idea how old his parents or Glorfindel were. It never came up in conversation, and again – an important bit of information he never asked for. It was such a long time ago, but now he wished he had paid attention to this, because he needed solid verification now.

“You are my brother, Glorfindel,” Thranduil suddenly realised and stabbed a finger in Glorfindel’s direction. “ _That_ is what festers inside you; that you never stood a chance at becoming king because you were the outcast. You chose to be adopted by the Gondolins because YOU are the illegitimate one!”

Glorfindel couldn’t disguise his facial expression at Thranduil’s discovery of the truth. He looked like he was close to attacking Thranduil, when Carlisle quietly mentioned, “Don’t even breathe on your brother, Mr. Bishop, or I _will_ annihilate you from the face of the earth if you do.” 

Surprised by the threat, Glorfindel visibly took a step back. 

“How long have you been looking for me?” Thranduil asked, and his voice broke.

“Forever. When I found out you had left Arda to go west, I went looking for you.”

“Why did it take you so long?”

“I was here for centuries where you could have found me!”

“That is none of your business.” 

“You will answer me! Why were you looking for me since it mattered that I had left?”

“Because I’m Oropher’s illegitimate son! Because I wanted to take his bride and make him pay for casting me aside. I wanted to hurt him but the bitch was smarter than I thought and caught on to my plan.”

“My mother told my father about your plan? What plan?”

“I would marry her, Oropher would disappear, and I would become king.”

“For what? Power? You wanted to rule that spider infested dark place?”

“Yes!”

“And then I was born.”

“Yes.”

“Why did you stick around?”

“In spite of everything, at first, Oropher didn’t mind me being present.”

“But my mother obviously did.”

“She hated me.”

“It is practically impossible to love you, Glorfindel. You may go.”

Glorfindel was not going to be told twice. “Is the job still on?” he asked.

“Sure. Why not,” Thranduil obliged.

“Fuck, really!?” Glorfindel exclaimed with a loud gag. He had suddenly noticed Carlisle drinking the blood samples. With a hand to his mouth, he hurried out of the dining room.

“Happy?” Carlisle asked.

“No. I went from thinking I was fucked by my father to knowing it was my half-brother instead. Incest no matter how you look at it.”

“Charming character.”

“I sure know how to pick them,” Thranduil said with a wry smile indicating that Carlisle was amongst those.

“Is he dangerous?”

“To me?” Thranduil shook his head and gathered his hair in his hand, running it down the strands before shaking it back into place. “There is nothing worth to take from me. I am not a king any longer.”

“As long as you have a people, you are king.”

“Those are just pretty words, my friend. I do not know if there are any left of my people.”

“You could go back.”

“I am afraid of what I will see.”

Carlisle nodded as he wiped excess blood from his lips. “Your blood is sweeter.”

“You flatter, you,” Thranduil smiled, glad that the sight of a vampire drinking blood didn’t unsettle him in the least. He’d seen the sight often enough since they first ran into each other in London in 1772. Carlisle was still a young Vampire of approximately 130 years of age; a child compared to Thranduil’s five millennia. Naturally, their encounter was short, bloody, and confusing. However, once they had each other’s special circumstances figured out, they took advantage of the rare fact that they would not die on each other. They became close friends.

“Seriously, are you coping with this?” Carlisle asked, as he packed away his equipment.

“I will be. I just need new papers and that wretched Elf will be out of my life.”

“Just say the word...”

“I do not place death sentences, Carlisle. Mr. Bishop has been around for too long. He does have a legacy to be reckoned by. Though his sting annoys me, I do not want him crushed under a newspaper like an insect.”

“A sting? Is that what they call it these days?” Carlisle teased. 

Thranduil sighed at the sexual pun.

Carlisle lifted his hands in peace. “Still a shame. Age was never a problem for my kind when dealing with trouble makers. I would love to drain that prancing peacock.”

Puffing air through his nose from amusement, Thranduil settled to just shaking the doctor’s hand. “Thank you for dropping by, my friend. I know it was a short notice.”

“Anytime, Thranduil. It was quite entertaining. See you around, darling.”

Thranduil nodded and let the doctor see himself out. 

Walking downstairs after a while, Thranduil went by sound and heard his favourite person having fun in the kitchen with Miss Pettigrew. Smiling he let them alone and decided for a stroll in the garden to calm down, clear his mind, and call Mrs. Thurman to say he would not be coming to work today.

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:


	5. Chapter 5

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

“Ned? They have both left.”

“Oh!” Ned startled when he heard Thranduil’s voice. “Um... Miss Pettigrew has left for today. We already made dinner. She told me that you don’t bring lunch with you to work...”

Thranduil smiled as he came much closer. “My dear Ned,” he said quietly. “Even though there is nothing at a standstill about you, you do make me feel calmer than I have in what feels like forever.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does to me. Is that not what matters?”

Ned shrugged and looked away from Thranduil’s crystal grey gaze. “Yes... yes of course it matters,” he remembered to say, and looked back barely a second before he had to look away once more. “You’re in my personal space.”

“I know.”

“Well, kindly take a step back.”

“I am sorry if it bothers you.”

“Yes. Well... yes.”

“What have you made?” Thranduil asked, turning to take a trip around the counter island in the middle of the kitchen.

“Everything,” Ned chuckled feeling more at ease. “We’ve cooked everything there was to make and Guinevere – I mean Miss Pettigrew - said she’d go shopping and bring more tomorrow.”

“But what are we going to do with all these pies, casseroles, and stews?”

“I don't know.” Ned hadn’t really thought it through. “Eat it or give it to a homeless shelter?”

Thranduil laughed. “What an excellent idea, Ned. But perhaps you should slow down...” Thranduil stopped mid-sentence, looking like he had a brilliant idea. Simultaneously, they both lifted an index finger and pointed at each other.

_“You should open a restaurant!”_

_“I could open another Pie Hole.”_

“A what?” Thranduil said, taken aback.

“My shop back home. I called it ‘The Pie Hole’.”

“Well, you can call it whatever you wish.”

“Wishing is one thing; the fact that I don't have that kind of money to make it happen is another, Thranduil.”

“Hmmm...” the Elf said pondering. “Let us think about this. I can vividly tell this would make you content.”

“Yeah... it definitely would,” Ned said with a brilliant smile of excitement. “Umm... so what are our plans then?”

“Our plans are the same. When we receive our new papers, we will move from this place and into my other house.”

“Together?”

“Yes. If that is what you wish, Ned. I do not want to push you,” the Elf said, though the pie maker sensed he was very interested in Ned doing exactly that.

“I’ll you tell what. If I’m going to disappear from the grit of the earth from now on and until eternity, I would prefer your company, Thranduil, so I accept.”

Thranduil smiled visibly happy about his decision. It made Ned smile, too. Only then did he approach the Elf, step into his personal space, and wrap his arms around his broad shoulders. It was a chance taken, and Ned knew it, so instead it came as a surprise to him when Thranduil without hesitation reciprocated the hug.

Ned held a bit harder, to make his host feel how much it was appreciated and Thranduil actually sighed. The seconds ticked by and slowly Ned moved his upper body in tiny gyrating motions. He closed his eyes and forgot about time as they stood there sharing comfort.

“I have not been held like this genuinely for centuries,” Thranduil said at some point. 

“Me neither,” Ned said, meaning years. Finally, he lifted his head to make sure Thranduil was all right. “We needed that, right?”

“After today, absolutely. This has been a horrid day and I am drained. I think I will retire for a few hours. Feel free to explore the house, Ned. There is access to all rooms except for one.”

“Secrets?”

“There are some things I cannot allow just anybody to stick their nose or eyes into.”

“Secrets?” Ned repeated.

“Yes. Though, I will probably show them to you. They are merely possessions and papers from my life in Mirkwood that would question my identity and age... nothing that would shock you, my dear.”

“It’s all right then,” Ned said and leaned in to kiss Thranduil’s smooth cheek. 

The Elvenking smiled slightly. “I will be down for dinner six o’clock. We will ask Miss Pettigrew to join us since tomorrow is her last day,” he said, and slipped out of the kitchen on silent feet.

“But why can’t we keep her?” Ned asked. He’d rather not see her go.

“No!” he heard Thranduil’s voice reply. “She’s been here for fifteen years and to her best knowledge I am forty-two. We cannot keep her, Ned. Too many...” His voice faded as he moved upstairs.

“...questions.” Ned finished the sentence. What a shame. He was rather fond of their housekeeper. Oh, right. When they moved in together, Ned would become the housekeeper... well, cook more correctly.

Taking Thranduil’s suggestion, Ned went downstairs and took a journey through the many rooms the old house had to offer. Skipping what treasures the basement might hold, Ned moved up to the first floor. The system seemed to repeat itself and the whole house came across as one large storage opportunity for items Thranduil didn’t seem to need.

That didn’t make it less interesting with so many nooks and crannies to investigate. Closets, chests, cupboards, and shelves filled with endless objects. Books, art, jewellery, scientific instruments, writing material, letters, and children’s toys – some of it mechanical, music instruments, and the list of interesting items never seemed to stop. 

Other closets were stuffed with practical stuff for the household such as linen and blankets, and more porcelain than Thranduil could ever wish to use so that had to be a private collection. The majority of Thranduil’s collection was old, but Ned saw how neatly everything was dated. This was a system to keep track of when they were acquired and if they would be interesting history wise one day.

“Smart cookie,” Ned approved, “But where ever will he put all this when we move?” Ned wondered. Particularly, if the people living in the other house were to move to this? That said, if Thranduil actually was going to offer them the opportunity. Well, it wasn’t his problem to solve unless his opinion was requested.

Slowly, Ned reached the part of the house with the bedrooms. He didn’t really need to look at more old stuff and was about to open the door to his own room, when he found his eyes drifting to Thranduil’s. Ned felt a bit lethargic from all the exploration he’d done, and he could do with a nap himself. He should have just pushed the door handle and go to his own bed, but something made him decide that Thranduil’s bed would be much nicer. Especially with Thranduil in it. 

As inaudibly as possible, Ned opened the door and tiptoed his way to Thranduil’s bed. The windows were opened ajar, but the slightly billowing curtains shut out the daylight, giving the room a breezy and quiet mood. Thranduil lay on his side on the further part of the bed. His hair was braided and lay along his back. Ned couldn’t see what the Elvenking was wearing, if anything at all. In the dimness, he sensed some kind of soft light surround Thranduil’s figure like an aura. 

“This had better be a hallucination,” Ned mumbled, but considering what he had seen so far in his short stay in London, anything was possible. Taking off his shoes, he sat down on the edge of the bed and slipped under the double duvet. It was soft, weightless, and comfortable, and he relaxed his body with a small sigh.

“Ned?” Thranduil’s voice came to him.

“Yes,” he responded. “Just napping.”

A faint rustling was heard when Thranduil moved. Ned turned his head and saw the Elf was now lying on his back. Slowly, Ned slid a hand towards him. And under the duvet, the Elf did the same. When their hands connected, Ned twisted his wrist just so that Thranduil’s fingers fit between his.

The Elvenking’s palms were so comforting smooth and cool that Ned believed he could hold his hand forever.

“This is nice,” Thranduil whispered.

“Electric,” Ned said and swallowed thickly. 

“You can come closer if you want,” Thranduil assured him, and Ned wanted that more than anything. He was so desperate for physical contact. His poor Chuck, who couldn’t touch him, and poor Ned himself for not being able to touch the one he loved the most on this precious earth. Why he felt equally passionate about the breathtaking Elf, he didn’t know. The fact that he could without harming Thranduil’s life and was allowed to was more important. Ned felt tears travel down his temples and into his hair.

“Are you sad, love?” Thranduil asked threading their fingers gently.

“No. I’m very happy,” Ned said and inched closer. Sliding his hand out of Thranduil’s, he moved to face the Elf and found the other had done the same towards him.

“How strange that we should meet under these circumstances?”

Smiling, Ned slipped into Thranduil’s arms and looked expectantly into his clear eyes. “It couldn’t have happened any time sooner for my sake.”

“My dearest Ned,” Thranduil said. “Though I apologise for the reasons for your coming here to England, in hind sight, I rejoice the fact that you had to.”

“Me, too,” Ned said, “What now?” 

“We sleep,” Thranduil said.

The elation that had filled Ned with excitement seemed to evaporate, and remembering how tired he was, he followed Thranduil into the land of dreams.

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

A small alarm interrupted Thranduil’s dreams. It was a reoccurring one from his life in Mirkwood. However, for once he was not chased by giant vermin. This had been a happy one.

Picking up his phone, he stopped the noisy gadget. Hearing a small protest, Thranduil smiled and lay back down to study Ned in his sleep. The sun was setting, but there was still light enough from a crack in the curtains to make out his features.

There were certain physical similarities, but a person could never claim to own the same face alone. Thranduil had met many people who looked like a dead ringer of someone he’d seen centuries prior. And here Ned was - looking the spitting image of the Elf himself. But that was not the attraction. Thranduil was not narcissistic in that way. Ned’s genuine personality was the attraction for the Elvenking.

“Ned?” Thranduil whispered.

Ned opened his sweet eyes and sleepily smiled. “Hey...” he said and surprised Thranduil, when he canted his head and kissed his lips.

“Oh...” Thranduil said chuckling. Playfully, he rubbed Ned’s nose with his own. “Do that again.” Ned caught his lower lip between his and kissed firmer. Putting his hands on either side of Ned’s face, Thranduil withdrew only to give back three kisses. “Cannot get too excited. Miss Pettigrew is sharp on time with dinner.”

Ned’s head fell back on the pillow and he looked hot.

“I wish I could ravish you right now,” Thranduil said.

“Likewise,” Ned said and added, “I haven’t gotten laid since before Chuck came into my life.”

“How long was that?”

“I don’t know. Ten years?”

“Ten years?” Thranduil laughed. “Poor you. That is a very long celibacy for a mortal – who now is immortal.”

“Yeah – Even after Chuck and I stopped dating – I didn’t quite know how to get back into the game. There was this little hot waitress who worked for The Pie Hole. Her name is Olive. All I would have to do was point at her, and she would come running. I just wasn’t feeling it, you know?”

Thranduil nodded. “Yeah. Same for me when my wife passed away. Shagging blokes did the trick after a while, though.”

Taking that comment in a stride, Ned rolled out of the bed and stood a bit awkwardly with his back turned.

“You can show me your hard on,” Thranduil said with a knowing smirk.

“And you’ll show me yours?” Ned tried to joke.

“If you want...” Thranduil said, wishing the human would. Slowly, Ned turned and sure enough, the front of his briefs was tented.

“I will tend to that later... if you will let me.”

“Please, yes,” Ned said and scratched the back of his neck.

“You are all right to go down stairs?”

“I might need a minute...”

“Take five,” Thranduil said and stepped out of bed himself. Ned’s jaw dropped gradually at the sight of Thranduil’s naked body. Mischievously, his hand travelled across Ned’s abdomen as he passed him and left the bedroom in search of clothes. 

Finding the wardrobe, Thranduil stretched his body in front of the mirror. With two fingers, he touched his erection and bit his lower lip. Life seemed to have gained so many perks just within a couple of days, and feeling this happy was infectious.

“We are going to have so much sex I expect none of us will be able to walk for a week – as the saying goes...” he muttered, picking out items to wear for dinner. Once he was done and anatomically presentable, he left to go to the dining room.

Ned was already seated, wearing the same clothes he did before their nap.

“Are you wearing makeup?” he asked looking closer.

“Yes. It enhances my eyelashes,” Thranduil replied daring Ned to comment further.

“Oh,” was all Ned said and looked up when the door opened. Miss Pettigrew came in wearing a lovely dress, and he was half way out of his chair when she lifted a hand.

“Do sit down, boys. I can handle this,” she insisted.

Ned sat back in his chair and let her serve the three of them. Then she sat down on the other side of Thranduil and they had their meal.

Miss Pettigrew entertained them about what she had been up to while they slept. Then she changed the subject and asked, “Where will you go, Master Crane? I so wish to stay in contact.”

“I know you do, dear. We just have not decided yet, but perhaps Inverness.”

“You are not sure?”

“No. This place has already been sold. Finding a new home is the least of my problems.”

Feeling, Ned was about to object, Thranduil carefully kicked his shin without hurting him. They shared a quick glance, and Thranduil signalled with his eyebrows that the house sale information was a white lie to pacify Miss Pettigrew’s unnecessary worries.

“Maybe I could help... if Ned is going to open a restaurant?”

Thranduil exchanged a look with Ned. “You told her?”

“I might have mentioned it just now when I gave a hand in the kitchen... while you freshened up.”

“If we move to Scotland that will not be convenient for you, Miss Pettigrew.”

“I could move...”

“Not if we move to Australia or the moon.”

“Oh...” Miss Pettigrew breathed softly, understanding that it was not the place but herself that was the factor.

“I apologise, Miss Pettigrew. I did not mean to be rude to you.”

“That is quite all right, Master Crane. Would you like some dessert?”

“If you have some,” Thranduil said tonelessly.

“W-we still have plenty of Ned’s pies...” she said, her voice struggling.

“I would love some pie,” Ned said and got up. He sent Thranduil a disapproving look, when he left the dining room with Miss Pettigrew to get pies.

“Fuck!” Thranduil said exasperated as he sat back alone. Cutting lose was never easy. People in his close presence got attached, and they hurt once he had to push them away again. He might even suspect the dear woman was carrying a torch for him.

When Ned came back he was alone. “Guinevere had to leave.” He put plates with two pieces of pies on both in front of their seats.

“I understand,” Thranduil said demurely. “I loathe having to do this to her. She has been a wonderful help and I heart her dearly.”

Ned sat down. “I never really said goodbye to people.”

“You still can. You should go back home and say goodbye to people, Ned. Not literally, but just make sure you have closure by seeing them one last time.”

“It can wait,” Ned said.

“If you wait too long, you cannot turn back time and they will be confused seeing you still looking like you do.”

“That’s fine, too,” Ned said. He folded his hands and looked down. “I have no family left. Chuck’s family were friends but not my family. The rest... I don’t know, Thranduil. I don’t feel like seeing them one last time. I think it feels fine remembering them how they were the last time I saw them. One last time won’t make that much of a difference.”

“Do you have possessions you need to retrieve? If you do not, you will likely lose them.”

Ned pondered thoughtfully. “You’ve got a point after all,” he said, “There are actually some of my things I would like to keep... and Digby of course... unless you’re allergic?” Ned looked apprehensive, fearing that would be a reason he could not get reunited with his beloved pet.

“I am not,” Thranduil quickly replied. He’d had many dogs throughout time. Continuing his narrative, he added, “Miss Pettigrew will receive a bonus every year for the rest of her life. Mrs. Thurman, whom I must also let go of, will receive one severance pay in addition to the pay checks she is entitled to in terms of notice. I am already in the process of establishing my new alter ego as the new owner of the shop, once I know what name I can use,” Thranduil said and cut a piece of pie with his fork.

“And Thomas Crane?”

“Will disappear as people do from time to time without further explanation.”

“Right so... May I ask why you’re so rich? It’s not like you could take your kingly money from that forest of yours and turn them into pounds?”

Thranduil smiled. “No. But I did have much jewellery on my person when I left. One picks up handy skills during a lifetime as long as mine has been. I design and make jewellery. I design and forge intending purchaser swords and various other weapons. And of course, I have been resourceful and careful with my values. I am creative when I invest. My homes I bought for almost nothing and took my time restoring. I never have repurchased my property. I just add a second administrator who always happens to be my new identity.”

Ned grinned. “It’s all good and clever, Thranduil. But if you have a business, aren’t you noticeable for the IRS. I mean: you have to pay taxes?”

“And I do. But what concerns my company, it has so few shares that I still manage to be of very little interest to the tax authorities. Of what I sell, I do pay taxes dutifully along with taxes and tolls that normally goes with having a business. I do not want to stand out, remember? Untimely visits from people not fit to peruse my inventory are unwanted. So far, I have managed to stay under the radar.”

“Can I ask you something else?”

Thranduil nodded. “Go for it.”

“What exactly did Mr. Bishop do to you that has made you so cross?”

 _Cross? Try livid_. Thranduil hesitated for a moment before he decided to simply tell Ned the shitty details. “My father was already ancient before he met my mother. Apparently, he had a little fling with an unknown Elf and the outcome was Glorfindel.”

“No!” Ned replied shocked and completely intrigued.

“Yes... I always wondered why my mother never liked having him skulking around freely in the rooms of the palace. Apparently, she resented his presence. Then I was born... and the rightful heir to the throne was secured. Glorfindel stopped coming around and began associating with the Vanyars of Gondolin. He chose to be adopted into their realm. Glorfindel carries a lot of unsolved anger towards my father and towards me for simply being born within marriage. Had my father publicly acknowledged that he sired Glorfindel, I am sure his life would have been different. But that was how the laws were for becoming a rightful heir. Children out of wedlock were pushed to the back of the line of heirs. No bastards wanted.” Thranduil stopped for a moment and shook his head. “His shitty personality, though, is his own making.”

“So, he’s your brother now?”

“Yes. Not my father. Of which I am eternally grateful.” Thranduil twirled the stem of his glass slowly and watched the light sparkle in the cut crystal. “I only realised the true connection when Carlisle revealed the result of our blood tests.”

Ned visibly shuddered at the mentioning of the vampire. “So, do you hate your brother? Mr. Bishop?”

“I abhor the effect he has on me but there is no point wasting energy hating someone, even if he did sleep with me knowing of our bond.”

“He did...?” Ned asked, the dominating Alpha part of Ned’s persona showing itself, and Thranduil was thrilled seeing it.

“That was the price I paid to get your identity, Ned,” Thranduil said, pushing him a little more. 

“And... will you do that again when he hands over the new papers?”

“With sex, you mean? Absolutely not. I will pay him with real money this time, and he would be wise to stay away from us.”

“Huh...” Ned said. “Good. That’s very good.” Ned was still showing his bristles, clearly not done gritting his teeth over the fact that Glorfindel had had his paws all over Thranduil’s body.

Taking a bite of pie, they both stared at each other while chewing. Ned swallowed nervously. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I want to taste you, pie maker,” Thranduil told him. “Why do you look at me the same way?”

“Same reasons.”

“Then let us retire to the bedroom.”

Ned dropped his fork with a loud clang and grabbed Thranduil’s outstretched hand.

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

“You are giggling like a girl,” Thranduil laughed.

“You’re giggling, too!” Ned protested giggling even harder, because he was feeling euphoric walking down the hall with Thranduil’s arm around his waist.

“Well at least I can blame the wine,” Thranduil laughed.

Right outside of Thranduil’s bedroom, Ned twirled out of the Elf’s grasp and embraced him, fencing him in against the wall.

“First time with a male?” Thranduil asked, his eyes boring into Ned’s. 

“First time with an Elf, too,” Ned chuckled. “I feel so drunk, too.”

Thranduil smiled and shimmied his hips subtly. “Mmmm...” Ned could sense his hard on against his own, and he inhaled sharply by how aroused that made him feel.

“This is going to be amazing, isn’t it?”

“We will certainly try,” Thranduil replied.

They tumbled into the bedroom, and in between kisses, clothes were carelessly dropped to the floor along with the duvet. Once they were on top of each other on the bed, panting and smiling with eyes full of anticipation, Ned realised he was actually going to have sex only...

“How does it work?”

“You should probably take me. After all, it is your first time.”

“Right. You’re right... how does it work?” Ned asked again.

Thranduil bit his lip coyly and nodded his head towards the bedside table.

“Right,” Ned realised instantly, “That’s where things usually are.”

“In my experience, a good preparation is the means to a successful end result,” Thranduil agreed amused.

Crawling off the Elf, Ned managed to pull the drawer open and find the supplies they would need: a tube of lubricant and condoms. “S-so what do we do?” he asked bashful.

“Relax, Ned. Come back to me. That can wait just a bit longer till we are ready.”

Ned grinned. “Of course. I’m a bit eager, aren’t I?”

“As I am. Kiss me, dear,” Thranduil begged and Ned was on him right away, claiming that wicked little smirking mouth. 

Rolling to their side, hands roamed eagerly down his back. When Thranduil grabbed his buttocks, Ned’s hips pushed forward wantonly. “Fuck...”

“Have you ever given a blow job?” Thranduil asked breathlessly in between heated kisses.

“No... have you?”

“Too many times to count. Ever received?”

“A blow job?” Ned croaked.

“Yes. A blow job.”

“Uh... huh... once... no twice... four times.”

“That’s it?” Thranduil asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“Yes... I wasn’t even picky.”

“Were you not able to have Chuck do this for you?”

“I wouldn’t let her...” Ned said and stopped breathing by this confession. 

Thranduil looked sharply at him. “Why?”

“Why...?” Ned raked his brain for a sensible answer but came up short. “I-I don't know.”

“Ned? You are stupid.”

Ned wasn’t even offended. He just smiled sheepishly and said, “Probably?” 

“If you refuse a blow job with a condom, mind you, then I am likely to say that you were never sexually attracted to Chuck.”

Ned swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous. “I wasn’t?" he asked. “As kids she was my first kiss.”

“Who cares? Have you ever wanted a blow job from any girl, Ned? Even before Chuck was brought back to life?”

Ned tried to look away from the intense stare of Thranduil’s grey eyes but he couldn’t. Besides, this was important.

“No...” he finally admitted in a whisper.

Thranduil face went from concentrated questioning and into one of his gorgeous mischievous smiles. “You have been so gay all this time, and you did not even know it.”

“Huh?” Ned breathed out. “Ah... hmmmm...” was his elaborate comment and slowly he nodded. 

“Who gave you those one-or-perhaps four blow jobs?”

Quickly, Ned licked his lips. His throat suddenly felt dry. “A-a boy,” he murmured.

“A little bit louder, please,” Thranduil smirked as a questing finger slid down Ned’s spine and teased just above his entrance.

Squirming, Ned inhaled and sighed, as he covered his eyes. “The first two were... I-it was a boy. A stupid little boy who used to chase me around the school yard. He was so annoying.”

“But he did chase you. And now you know why.”

“Because he wanted to bully me?”

“Ned. Come on and try to at least stay on the same page with me. That kid he was attracted to you. He was a little gay boy, too.”

“Jesus,” Ned gasped shocked. “That’s... almost indecent...”

“I know, but it is a little bit sweet as well.”

“No...” Ned cringed.

“How old were you?”

“Um... hum...” Ned tried to concentrate as the investigative finger teased his entrance.

“You like that?” Thranduil asked, testing waters.

“Yeah... I do. Um... I was... we were... Um...” Ned closed his eyes hard to try and block out a few senses. “Twelve maybe?... Not older.”

Thranduil laughed breathily. “So young. At twelve, my people would barely have considered me dry behind the ears.”

“It was clumsy, Thranduil, and he wanted to repeat the deed the day after.”

“Did you come?”

“The first time, yes. Made a mess all over his hands. I... tchah!” he yelped, as Thranduil decided to enter his body. Gods, his finger was so big and the sensation disturbingly good. “That’s so odd. I-I’m not sure...”

“Do not worry, Ned. The feeling is very confusing the first time,” Thranduil assured him. “Relax and enjoy it.”

“Sure... and... but that was it. I didn’t let him finish me the second time. Just pushed him away. The two other times were with two different girls. But not at the same time.” Ned concluded the short sad story of his first blowjob experience. 

“And how were those experiences?”

“Satisfactory.” Ned said with a little moan as Thranduil pulled away and slivered down the bed. Gently pushing Ned onto his back, he moved up between his long legs.

“Did you have sex with these ladies?” Thranduil asked casually.

“Thranduil... please...” Ned struggled to concentrate. “A little... I mean. All the women I’ve ever slept with never complained, but then again, they never asked for an encore,” he said, looking intensely at what Thranduil was going to do next.

“So flawless,” Thranduil said and licked a wide stripe up Ned’s erection with his tongue. “So big.”

“No bigger than you,” Ned pointed out and moaned while his toes curled. His skin tingled all over with anticipation.

Thranduil laughed. “I think we both know you are the winner in that subdivision.” And then he took Ned into his mouth. 

“Yes...” Ned sighed, watching as Thranduil’s blond head bopped up and down a few times. The Elf looked up and Ned shook his head smiling. 

“You like it?”

“Very much,” Ned said and then he didn’t say much for a while.

Thranduil was thorough. Swallowing him so far down that at times, his nose touched Ned’s pubic hairs. Ned couldn’t keep up the eye contact, but whenever he could, Thranduil was looking right back at him and sucked hard. Expectation surged through Ned all over again making him groan in pleasure.

“I can’t hold back for much longer,” he warned Thranduil. It felt too good.

Thranduil’s mouth pulled away so slowly that Ned thought for a moment his cock had elongated the more of it was revealed. “Then don’t,” Thranduil finally answered.

The Elf cocked his head and looked at him dirtily as his tongue swirled around a sensitive spot. The second he added pressure, Ned rolled back his eyes and came with a cry. Oh, that felt incredible and he wanted to say that, but only needy moans came out of his mouth when he tried. When he could gather his wits again, he found Thranduil resting his arms on Ned’s chest looking him straight into the face.

“Hey...” Thranduil said and kissed a nipple. “Welcome back.” He smiled lovingly but it soon turned coyly.

“Would you like me to...?” Ned offered, not knowing if he would be able to reciprocate as well as Thranduil had done it for him.

“No. I just wanted you to orgasm, because it would make you more relaxed for the main event.”

“Oh, and I am. You’re right,” Ned chuckled and stretched slightly. Thranduil peppered his chest with more kisses, and Ned was ready to continue. Thranduil’s hair was no longer braided and Ned grabbed it forcing him to look up. “Tell me what to do.”

“Take the lube and go for it.”

“Okay. So basically, what you did to me?” The fact that he was soon going to put his fingers inside another person should have fazed Ned, but the act only seemed natural.

“Yes. How do you want me?” Thranduil asked and leapt back on his haunches.

“With your back turned. I want to see what I’m doing... if that’s...”

“I have no problem with that, but you might find more than you bargained for.”

“Like what?”

“Like... two for the price of one. I am intersexual.”

“Into? Into what?” Ned asked confused.

“Inter. Sexual. I have a bit of both genitalia.” 

Ned frowned. That was actually possible? Of course, who hadn’t read about it some way or another... but that it actually existed was mind blowing. 

“But you do identity as male, right?” Ned suddenly wondered, in spite of the clearly manly substitute names Thranduil chose for himself.

“Yes, Ned.” Thranduil began to look slightly tense, and coldly he added, “You can say no any time. Not everyone has the stomach for it.”

“No. I mean as in can I see it... you?” Ned asked. If he’d ever thought Elves were just like normal people – besides the never aging thing, he must have been naïve. Of course, there had to be more to them that just normality. His curiosity had always gotten the better of him and this physical wonder Ned had to see with his own eyes.

Thranduil’s face had returned to its delighted expression. “Yeah, you can even touch it,” he said and turned his back on Ned to rest on his hands and knees. With a sharp twist of his head, his hair swept over one shoulder with dramatic aesthetically, his keen eyes following as Ned squirted out a dollop of lube on his eager fingers.

“Remember that there is no such thing as too much lube, Ned,” Thranduil told him.

“Got it,” Ned said. Their eyes met, and Ned smiled. “I can do this! This isn’t rocket science...”

“No, it is not,” Thranduil agreed smiling back. 

Thranduil was delightfully playful, in return making Ned feel brave and desirable in the eyes of the Elvenking. Moving up to Thranduil, he put a hand on the small of his strong back. With the other, he slipped a finger across the little opening. Bending his neck he could see what the Elf was talking about. The view of the additional petite small sliver of parted flesh was fascinating but not what Ned was truly interested in right now. 

“Uhhh,” Thranduil breathed lowly while adjusting his balance.

“Could you get pregnant?” Ned asked.

“I am not really counting cycles any longer. But rest assured that I am fertile,” Thranduil almost whispered.

Definitely not sticking anything in there, unless Thranduil insisted on it. Ned sucked in his lips as he inserted a finger. Thranduil’s back arched in accommodation and moaned encouraging. Ned wasn’t even hesitating when he inserted a second one to test how far Thranduil was stretched. 

The Elf hung his head low and panted laboured. “You can add another soon.”

“How many would you need?” Ned asked, wondering if he’d have to use fingers from the other hand as well.

Thranduil looked over his shoulder and, as if he knew what Ned was thinking, he said, “Worry not. No more than four will suffice.”

Ned grinned. “Sure. Not that big, right?”

“That is enough,” Thranduil said after a few minutes, “Now, please get inside me.”

“Where can I dry my hand? There’s still some stuff...”

“Do it on the sheet. We will be soiling it anyway. We will do our laundry ourselves from now on.”

“Right. No more Miss Pettigrew.” Ned knew that Thranduil of course meant that Ned would be the one doing the laundry from now on. Which was perfectly fine, since he couldn’t imagine the Elvenking doing any kind of laundry. Somehow the image clashed. 

While Ned wiped his hands on the sheet, Thranduil busied himself picking the condom free of its foil. Ned watched with a little sigh as the Elf rolled it on his stiff cock. 

“Grab the lube,” Thranduil said, and Ned reached for it. Quickly, Thranduil slathered a generous amount all over Ned’s cock.

“Finally,” Thranduil said and lifted his hair as he lay down on his back looking up at Ned. “Come on, darling. Hurry up. All that is left is for you to get inside me, and we are good to go.”

Ned moved close and watched the sight of Thranduil’s translucent skin. Putting his hands on the Elvenking’s quivering stomach, Ned continued to move them down his strong thighs, and then under before he grabbed Thranduil’s arm and pulled him up on top of his thighs. The Elf’s long hair tickled Ned’s arms. Gods, what a pretty, gorgeous, being the Elf was.

Getting up on his knees, Thranduil grabbed Ned’s cock. Aiming expertly, Thranduil’s weight did the work for them as he gradually bore down on Ned’s cock that went smoothly into his arse. The heat surrounding Ned was indescribable, and the pressure exquisite. Most of all, when Thranduil began to move, he looked like he was already blissed out from pleasure. The Elf’s beauty in the throes of passion nearly took Ned’s breath away. In that moment, he realised he was in love.

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

Of all the lovers Thranduil had had throughout time, some had been extraordinary, some in between, and some not even worth remembering. So far, Ned wasn’t a remarkable lover, but why would Thranduil need a gymnast between the sheets, when loving Ned made the Elf feel like the human was in fact the most extraordinary lover he’d ever had. Besides, Ned had potential.

Feeling Ned working with him, their bodies connecting like clockwork, Thranduil found himself besotted by his lover. That he’d come to care for the human so quickly was surprising. Usually, an Elf took decades or even centuries wooing a potential spouse. However, in this world there wasn’t that kind of luxury. Generally speaking, people decided these matters more on a hunch, a feeling, or even as a transaction, rather than taking the time to get to know each other well enough to make sure the match was impeccable. The poor humans would be dead before they could make such a bullet proof assessment if they waited longer, so Thranduil was sympathetic to this issue.

“You’re still with me?” Ned asked, his face shone from the assertion.

Thranduil hummed, “Yes...” Then he put a hand behind him on Ned’s thighs, the slight angle sent sparks behind the Elf’s eyes. Ned’s hands moved to his ribcage, supporting Thranduil’s body. “Fuuuck!” he groaned in delight, loving the feel of Ned’s slick cock moving in and out of his body. 

“All right?” Ned asked.

“Yeees,” Thranduil said and gyrated his hips enhancing the feeling. “How are you faring?”

“If you keep doing that, Thranduil, it won’t be long now.” 

Thranduil changed back to his previous position, and put an arm around Ned’s neck. “Touch me,” he begged. 

The cadence of their breathing escalated when Ned grabbed Thranduil’s cock and stroked it vigorously, rushing Thranduil’s impending orgasm forward. The breath was knocked out of him from its intensity. His cries had Ned work his hips harder, the merciless tight clench around his flesh sending Ned over the edge, too.

“This is so good, Ned,” he told him, their bodies still moving to reap the last pleasure from their climax.

Letting go of Thranduil’s cock, Ned lifted his hands and his fingers grabbed Thranduil’s hair. His lips latched on to the Elf’s. They shared languid kisses, until they both felt uncomfortable from the position and the stickiness between them. 

When their lips finally parted, they looked slightly stunned at each other. Neither had thought the experience would be so poignant and the love each had discovered about the other was visible in their faces and longing eyes.

Ned parted his lips to speak, but Thranduil put a finger there. “Not yet. It is too soon.”

In spite of how Ned regarded him, Thranduil’s vulnerable fäe couldn’t handle the impact of his proclamation of love yet. He knew already how the pie maker felt and the elated feeling made Thranduil happier than he’d been for too long. 

And Ned wouldn’t die of old age.

Everything was perfect.

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:


	6. Chapter 6

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

Three weeks later

 

Ned had gotten his own desk and computer in the back office of the gallery, and the two lovers sat working across from each other.

Ned was busy studying a catalogue of modern antiquities; whereas Thranduil was doing invoices himself now that Mrs. Thurman no longer worked for him. The weekend was going to be spent at the other house. Thranduil’s tenants had left but for someplace else, since the Elf king had decided not to offer them his current house. The transition was too rushed with a collection of belongings that substantial. Furthermore, Thranduil admitted he was sick of moving the entire inventory every time he switched houses. 

The week after, Ned was going back home to Coeur d'Coeurs to collect his belongings. Most importantly though, he would have to place Digby in quarantine so his beloved pet could re-join him in their London home when he was deemed fit to enter the country. At the moment, Digby was taken care of by his former waitress and good friend Olive. 

The doorbell jingled, and Ned got up. Greeting the customers was part of his job. He was still mostly clueless of what period of history the various rare objects on display belonged to, but he was narrowing it down slowly the more he learned. 

When he saw who the customer was, he cried out, “Thranduil!!!”

Quickly, the Elf came out into the room and he too, stopped. “Glorfindel...” he said apprehensively.

The other Elf held up his hand. In it, he kept an envelope visible. “Your papers. Nothing else.”

“Fine,” Thranduil went and locked the door to the shop, turning the ‘Sorry. We are closed’ sign. Then he indicated with his hand that Mr. Bishop could step into the office.

“Two sets of papers,” Mr. Bishop said and dumped the contents on Thranduil’s desk.

“And these people are deceased?” Thranduil asked and picked up one passport. Stretching his neck, Ned saw that it belonged to himself.

“Completely annihilated,” Mr. Bishop said darkly.

Thranduil looked up with a sudden suspicion. “What do you mean?” he asked sharply.

“Exactly what you think I do,” Mr. Bishop returned the answer and looked at Ned. “Is he your squeeze now?”

Ned frowned and felt offended as well as left out. The tension building up was palpable, and yet he had no idea why it was escalated so quickly.

“What is...” he asked.

“Explain yourself!” Thranduil asked calmly, but Ned could tell by the pink of the tips of his ears that he was anything but calm. It was also a sign that Ned should keep quiet and not interfere with questions to circumstances disregarding him anyway.

Thranduil picked up the other passport and opened it. “Garrett Twisden... you have got to be joking,” he said and snapped the little book closed in his hand.

“I thought it was befitting,” Mr. Bishop said.

“And how long has Mr. Twisden been... annihilated?” Thranduil asked pinning Mr. Bishop with his icy grey eyes.

“Two weeks. Dr. Cullen was such a dear and help me.”

The expression on Thranduil’s face worried Ned. The Elf paled and he put a hand to his mouth and was battling nausea.

Ned went to Thranduil’s desk and picked up his own passport. Looking up he asked, “And who was... Peter Sharrow?”

“The unfortunate sod was pinned by the late Mr. Garrett Twisden when the good doctor killed them.”

“Get the fuck out of my house, Glorfindel. You chronic liar!” Thranduil finally managed to shout.

“Gladly. I’ll send you the bill.”

“Do not bother.” With long steps, Thranduil went to his desk and opened a drawer taking out a heavy envelope. “Here,” he said and thrust it at Mr. Bishop who caught it. “Count them and leave.”

Mr. Bishop tsked and opened the envelope to have a glance. With a chuckle, he let his thumb run over the edge of the many bills inside. Looking up slyly at the Elvenking, he said, “Did you actually believe me, little brother?”

Thranduil literally looked stunned for a moment, and his lips slowly parted but nothing came out for several seconds. “Getting a straight answer from you is like pulling teeth! Did you or did you not kill people to have their identities coupled to ours?” he asked in a dangerous voice, as his hand reached for a sword that rested on Ned’s desk. Mr. Bishop’s eyes revealed he was aware of how quickly he’d put himself in danger, and lifted a hand to appease Thranduil.

Finally, Ned understood what was going on this time, and he couldn’t help himself and asked, “Why do you get such a kick out of being a horrible shit, Mr. Bishop? Thranduil is your only kin but at least you have one! I have none!” 

Both Elves looked surprised but Ned could tell that his words had made an impact on the older Elf somewhere. His eyes flickered away from the sword in Thranduil’s hands and to Ned before returning to their default haughty expression.

With an annoyed hiss, Mr. Bishop dropped the money on Thranduil’s desk. Then after a dramatic turn, he stalked out of the office. Moments later, the door to the shop opened and closed with a loud slam that had the old windows rattle.

Thranduil dropped the sword back on Ned’s desk, and the pie maker saw the Elf lose it when he sat down heavily on his chair and started to laugh.

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

Travelling to Coeurs d'Coeurs

 

“Do you think the doctor killed those people?” Ned asked timidly, as they walked through Heathrow’s Terminal 3 get to their gate.

“No, Ned, darling. I am quite sure we can find a normal boring obituary of one of the two individuals if we look for it,” Thranduil said. In the last minute, Thranduil had decided to tag along and go to Coeur d'Coeurs with his soul mate. Besides, there was a small detail he needed to clarify in person when he got there.

“And are we gonna do that?” Ned asked.

“Knock yourself out, but you will have to wait till we get back home,” Thranduil said. “No more detective work for you until then.”

Ned had told him so many entertaining stories from the time he assisted the private investigator Emerson Cod. His gift of bringing back the dead had been misguided as far as Thranduil could tell. The town Ned came from must have had a crime rate that would have had Scotland Yard on Def Con 4 had it been in the UK. He was grateful that Ned wasn’t involving himself in those endeavours any longer. 

“Mr. Crane. Mr. Edwards. On behalf of British Airways, I wish you a pleasant flight,” the lady at gate 79 said.

Ned was the only one of them who acknowledged her and nodded.

“Keep up, Ned,” Thranduil said as they moved to board their plane. He hadn’t flown much in his life and couldn’t quite get used to the painful pressure in his ears that seemed to go on for hours afterwards. Ned had advised him to take some painkillers an hour before landing and another dose four hours prior to that to keep the effect from waning. The Elf chose to take Ned’s word for it and took the pills. After they landed in America, he was relieved to discover that the pain was in fact not as bad as he remembered. Later, Ned was rewarded with a lovely dinner at their airport hotel and so much sex that he didn't recall falling asleep afterwards.

In the morning, they rented a car and drove the entire way to Coeur d'Coeurs. It took most of the day with a few pit stops for bathroom breaks and supplies. They arrived around two in the afternoon.

“Do you like this kind of travelling?” Thranduil asked.

“Yeah, kind of. I take it you don’t?” Ned asked with a smile as they neared his beloved home city. 

“A pretty view,” Thranduil said. The colours in this city were extraordinary. Like Technicolor movies from the 1950’s. People even dressed exceptionally nice. Squinting at Ned, Thranduil thought his younger lover was a product of proper America; the conservative view of how a picture perfect world should be, but its people never really could live up to the ideal anyway. Hence the huge crime rate Ned had talked about. Ned however, was that ideal and Thranduil had fun gradually turning him into a normal person with flaws. They sure had the time on their hands.

“This is us,” Ned said and swung into a small parking lot. 

Thranduil got out of the car and looked around. “Up there?” he asked, looking at a yellow bricked building with flats clearly for single people.

“Yeah. That’s where I live... or used to, I mean. Chuck lived there, too.”

“Did you ever move in together?” Thranduil asked, knowing the answer already.

Rubbing his neck self-consciously, Ned shook his head. “Nah... never got around to it, tempting as it was. But it was too dangerous. I could potentially touch her in my sleep and used to have night mares about it.”

Thranduil nodded in understanding and quickly changed the subject. Chuck was a boring topic of conversation anyway. 

“Well, let us have a look!” the Elf said and let Ned lead the way, each pulling their suitcase behind them by the elongated handle.

Ned’s place was very modest but he had a huge collection of books.

“Adorable wall paper,” Thranduil said sarcastically as he let the tips of his fingers travel across the book spines. “Cannot say I know many of these thespians,” he said and looked at Ned who watched him keenly.

“I admit to loving small unknown romantic paperback writers. I tend not to throw them away even though they are cheap... and second hand.”

“Where is your bedroom?” Thranduil asked steering away from yet another topic.

“Oh....” Ned struggled to handle the sudden change. “You want sex now?” he asked in a low voice. “Chances could be that today of all days, the retired residents have something else to do but pressing their ears against the wall listening in on other people’s activities.”

Just to tease Ned, Thranduil raised his voice, “No, Ned Edwards. We are _not_ having sex.”

Ned looked horrified, and Thranduil just laughed. “Relax, my dear.” He stepped close to him and put his arms around Ned’s waist. “I just want to see what it looks like. We can baptise the bed later, if you must.”

His sweet pie maker had trouble settling on any facial expression and still looked gapingly at the Elf. “Show the way, Ned,” Thranduil said and placed a kiss on his lips. “I was just joking.”

“Joke less loudly, Thranduil. They must have heard you on the other side of the building, too!” Then he took Thranduil’s hand and pulled him towards his bedroom. 

“Well. It is a room with a bed,” Thranduil said when he entered. There was nothing else there except a dresser. “How is the bed?”

“Compared to yours it’s a slab of cardboard.”

“Hmmm...” The entire design looked like the worst IKEA night mare – not that Thranduil had ever been in an IKEA store – just especially uninviting. Still, it’s what Ned had to offer, so Thranduil would endure their nights here in it. “Bathroom?”

“Hall way at the end.”

“In here?” Thranduil asked.

“Nope... Outside.”

“You do not have your own bathroom?” Thranduil asked in honest incredulity.

“It’s really an old...”

“Try ancient,” Thranduil muttered and went to investigate. As joint bathroom facility was concerned, it was passable and Thranduil didn’t waste more time in there than necessary. When he returned, Ned was busy going through his stuff. He seemed adamant on bringing books to England.

“How many books are you going to bring?”

“As many as possible?”

“Which is?” Thranduil asked and had a second look at the book titles. They were so trivial and unenlightening that he almost felt the urge to play king, and forbid Ned to ever read such romantic nonsense again.

“Five?... Four?”

“One box,” Thranduil said and crossed his arms over his chest.

“One box? In total?”

“One box of books, my dear. In London you can buy as many as you want. But from this lot...” Thranduil waved a loose wrist directed at the book cases, “One box.”

“I guess I can do that...” Ned replied, but didn’t sound very certain.

“You have to let go of things like these, Ned.”

“You have a house _full_ of things!” Ned pointed out.

“You are only thirty-seven years old, Edward. You have accumulated so many things already that you need to learn how to cut down or you will be swamped before you know it.”

Ned bit his lip, and Thranduil trusted the young man understood what he was communicating. And please, by Elbereth, Thranduil hoped he would just drop the awful books and concentrate on the belongings that really mattered.

“I need to make ‘Prioritise Boxes’ and somehow cut them down to the most important ones,” Ned finally acquiesced.

“I believe you did not need any of it when we first talked about it at home,” Thranduil couldn’t help poking.

“I know,” Ned whined and sat down on a sofa. “I also have to settle this place.”

“It needs a makeover,” Thranduil said and wrinkled his nose.

“Why?”

“The wallpaper is... could use a new pattern,” Thranduil said diplomatically.

“It’s considered very chic around here.”

“Fine. The final decision is yours anyway. I am going to lie down on your bed and rest for half an hour.”

“Thinking about you in my bed is not gonna help making it easier to get this done, Thranduil!”

“Not my problem,” the Elf responded evilly.

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

Later that afternoon, they went to fetch Digby from Olive’s and have him put in quarantine. The sooner the better.

“Imagine having your dog with you forever,” Thranduil said.

“As long as I don’t touch him. But he knows this.”

“I will give him all the rubs he can handle from the both of us,” Thranduil promised. Then he asked Ned for a few pictures with him standing against the wall. Ned obliged willingly without even asking what he needed them for. Thranduil often asked Ned for photographs. Ned supposed his Elf wanted to make sure Ned really wasn’t aging and wasn’t that a sweet gesture?

Shortly after, Olive showed up at the door with Digby. Seeing his sweet pet again after such a long time was truly enjoyable and Ned saw the moment Thranduil’s heart was captured when the two were introduced.

“And who do we have here?” Olive asked, treating the both of them to her blinding cheery smile. Thranduil reacted by being court and surprisingly disinterested towards her, but then Ned had felt the same about Mr. Bishop.

“Hi Olive. We’re just collecting Digby and will be on our way.”

“I could make a cup...”

“You do not have to make us anything. Today’s itinerary is over booked already,” Thranduil said.

“Oh...” Olive said, and Ned felt bad for her, but then he remembered painfully well that they'd had to do the same thing to dear Miss Pettigrew.

“Yes. We really should be going. Thanks so much for taking care of Digby for me, Olive. I know I inconvenienced you by spending an awful lot of time abroad but it was necessary,” Ned said and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. Of course, Olive would interpret that as something more than the goodbye kiss it really was.

“Edward!” Thranduil barked and when Ned looked at him, his Elvenking looked furious from jealousy. Ned smiled and looked back at Olive who found the whole dynamic between them out of the ordinary.

“He’s not very friendly, is he?” Olive noticed.

“Oh, he can be,” Ned said and dragged the toe of his converse against the gravel on Olive’s porch. “I’ve gotta go, Olive. We need to put Digby away.”

“Away?” she said alarmed.

“Oh, not like that! Gods no! Just in a kennel for a while. He needs to go with me to...”

“Ned!” Thranduil interrupted him exasperatedly, and Ned realised he’d almost told Olive what he planned to do for the rest of his life and especially where.

“To where, Ned?” Olive asked, ignoring the intimidating blond man.

“Nothing important. I’ll see you around.” Ned pulled the leash and Digby followed him to the car where Thranduil stood. The Elf looked amazing leaning against the side like that wearing a long woollen coat, black slacks, and sunglasses pushed up to keep stray hairs from blowing into his eyes. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine.

“Are you done dropping random information to any busy body in the neighbourhood?” Thranduil asked.

“Yes, Thranduil,” Ned agreed timidly. 

Quickly, Thranduil grabbed Ned’s head and pressed a kiss to his brown wavy hair. Ned didn’t even dare looking at Olive for her reaction to that display of affection from the Elvenking.

“We are leaving,” Thranduil said and slipped the sunglasses on. 

Once Digby was secured in the kennel, arrangements for the transport to England in a few months were taken care of at the same time. Thranduil could tell that it was hard for Ned already to let go of his dog so soon after seeing him again. However, it wouldn’t be long before he could have him back in his life again hopefully forever – as long as he didn’t touch him.

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

One day became three and the couple managed to move everything out of Ned’s flat, and keep the boxes to an astounding minimum of just six. The boxes were sent to London as soon as they were sealed and ready. The pie maker’s real passport had arrived and he was free to travel back to London as soon as a new visa was approved. Now Ned had room to fix the place.

They both had a few obstacles to attend as well. When Ned gave his landlord his notice, the guy tried to cheat Ned from giving him back his deposit. All Thranduil had to do was towering over the guy. His mere threatening presence was enough for the guy to find the money and pay back Ned what he owed. 

Where Thranduil was concerned, he had an investigative task cut out for himself. While Ned still had a few loose ends to settle regarding his furniture and personal relations, Thranduil would be out of his hair for a few days. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t tell Ned what he planned to do, but he didn’t see why upsetting Ned would be preferable. 

Thranduil went downtown to meet with Carlisle who also travelled to the States, albeit earlier in the week. Thranduil needed his help and Carlisle was due to check up on his Covent anyway.

“Hello, Carlisle,” Thranduil greeted the doctor. “What a coincidence finding you here,” he joked jovially.

“Hello my friend.”

“All is well in the family?”

“Yes. My Coven is fine. Garrett however...”

“What about him?” Thranduil asked alert.

“...is fine, too.” Carlisle smiled.

“Is he here?”

“You sure you want to see him?”

“You said he had turned to animal blood by now. That it would be safe.”

“And he has. He just hates British people.”

“Technically, I am not British. I am an Elf.”

“Yes... so are you an animal or human?” Carlisle joked.

Thranduil punched his shoulder and looked around. “The weather is overcast now. It was sunny the entire morning.”

“Yes, lucky me. A bizarre little colourful town, wouldn’t you say? Quaint how the colour blue is missing in the entire landscape except from the sky, don’t you think?”

“Garrett, Carlisle?” Thranduil said, steering the doctor back to the reason why he needed to see him in America at all. “Glorfindel’s latest lie was using Garrett’s name in the papers he made for me.”

“And you still won’t let me throttle him?” Carlisle said, eyes rolling in disbelief. “How does he even know about him?”

“You tell me? He said you helped him kill Garrett; well, practically murdering him in front of his eyes which is quite the disturbing thing to say considering that Garrett is your friend and ally.”

“But your brother lied, correct? And remember that he was the squeamish one that day in your dining room. I doubt he would ever stand next to me while attacking other people, which you know I haven’t done in a century. I would never attack unless I was in danger.”

“You drank our blood willingly,” Thranduil pointed out. It was imperative that he could still trust Carlisle.

“Yes. But I didn’t drink _from_ you, Thranduil.”

“All right. I believe you, Carlisle. I just wanted to make sure. What concerns Glorfindel... he is... just pissing me off.” 

Carlisle nodded understanding too well. “Like an older brother usually does.” Thranduil’s scowl made him chuckle at his own comment.

“Glorfindel slayed a Balrog back in the day, so squeamish to witnessing killing he is not. Just... oh, I do not even care really.”

“So he can accomplish something. What a shocker... Ah, there he is.”

“Oh,” Thranduil said and looked in the direction Carlisle had turned.

“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get here at this specific time? It had better be important, Carlisle.” A dark haired man slithered around the corner and stopped abruptly at the sight of Thranduil. “Why didn’t I feel you?” he asked suspiciously, while looking at Thranduil. “You’re not a mortal,” he stated.

Thranduil had no words when he saw the Vampire. It would have to be a physical wonder. The creature was the testosterone version of his lovely Ned, but that’s where the comparison ended. There was no softness to this fellow. He had clearly been around and carried a résumé Thranduil didn’t care to scrutinize.

“Well, Garrett, this is my dear and ancient friend Thranduil. He has some questions for you. I was merely the mediator," the doctor quickly introduced the two.

“The phone has been invented, Carlisle,” Garrett grumbled, folding his bulging arms over his chest in annoyance, as his eyes wandering to Carlisle.

Thranduil wasn’t going to let the Vampire’s attitude annoy him. “So tell us. How difficult was it in fact to get here on this specific date?”

Red grenade coloured orbs shot in Thranduil’s direction and a casual stance came over the supernatural man instead. “Very,” was all he said, and Thranduil couldn’t hide a smile and stepped closer to him.

“Ask away. I have places to be. _People_ to do,” Garrett huffed.

“Carlisle here told me you do not _do_ people anymore.”

“Oh, I’d do you in a second. Just say the word.”

“Garrett, dammit!” Carlisle interrupted the pissing contest Thranduil rather enjoyed. “You said you’d behave. Kate assured...”

“Kate is not mine any more, Carlisle. I thought you were on top of these things. I can handle myself,” Garrett said, but he was looking at Thranduil.

“I must have missed that memo,” Carlisle said.

“So, you’re Thranduil. The _Elf_ ,” Garrett stressed looking the Elvenking up and down. “I didn’t believe Elves really existed. To me, you’ve always been depicted in children’s books as tiny, delicate, transparent _insects_ pollinating every flower in the neighbourhood. Fucking roses and lilies like horny, clumsy bumblebees.”

“You are funny,” Thranduil said and Garrett stepped closer to him. “In fact, you are worse than Glorfindel.”

“And who is Glorfindel? The maid who kisses the dirt you walk on?”

“No,” Thranduil sighed with a bored expression. “My misguided older brother who believes in incest.” Why he said that, he had no idea, but the expression on Garrett’s face changed.

“Oh...” Then he looked keener. “And you want me to get rid of this vile brother of yours?”

“No. I just want to know why he chose your name for my new documents. He knew of you and specifically let me believe Carlisle killed you for me to have your name.”

“Come clean on this, Carlisle,” Garrett said and looked at the doctor who suddenly looked caught by surprise. 

“Me? I know nothing of this! I was just trying to help.”

“Well, Glorfindel must have overheard something. Where did you go after you took our blood samples?” Thranduil asked.

“Blood samples?” Garrett asked interested.

“Are you insinuating he followed me?” Carlisle said incredulous.

“Now I certainly am,” Thranduil replied.

“This is an absurd conversation,” Garrett said and reached out a hand to touch Thranduil’s hair. Thranduil hadn’t expected that and was startled by his touch. The next thing he knew was being held in an iron grip by Garrett.

Carlisle was in his face growling. “Let him go. Now. He’s immortal already. Don’t fuck it up.”

“I wasn’t planning on fucking up... just plain fucking.”

Thranduil could hardly breathe. In an animalistic way Garrett was alluring. His strong pheromones were filling Thranduil’s nostrils, and had they been alone without Carlisle’s admonishments, he would have given in to the Vampire.

“Last warning, my friend, or I will have to rapport this...”

Sighing, Garrett let go of Thranduil and the Elf almost sagged to his knees as if the Vampire had taken his strength away. 

“What’s the matter with you, Garrett?”

“Nothing,” Garrett answered. “I wasn’t planning on drinking him.”

“However, I can vividly imagine what else you were planning to do to him. He’s taken, all right? He’s bonded to someone else.”

Garrett nodded and looked at Thranduil who was getting his bearings back. “I’m aware. I can smell the guy all over him.” Sourly, Garrett straightened his back. “Apologies, Thranduil.”

“I will let it pass this time,” Thranduil replied, as he did his best to shake the arousal from his mind. He wouldn’t take the blame for this. Garrett hadn’t played fair. “Carlisle...? If you will continue, please.”

Carlisle nodded and wiped his upper lip. “I did make a phone call shortly after I left your house, Thranduil. I wanted to check up on the family, as you know, and they asked me to come home soon. I might have inquired about a select number of people from my supporting Covens, and I have to admit I didn’t pay attention to anyone listening in on my conversation. For all I know, Glorfindel could have waited for me and positioned himself close enough to overhear those names. Garrett’s was one of them. That’s as far as I imagine what could have happened.” 

“How would he be able to make a British passport for you in my name?” Garrett asked.

“That is how he does it,” Thranduil explained, “Making passports from deceased people’s names. He tracks down their names and recycles their names.”

“I get that, Elf Guy. I use that procedure myself when I need a new identity,” Garrett said. “But how was he able to pull my name out of the cookie jar?”

“You will have to ask him yourself,” Thranduil said and almost choked on his words. Garrett Twisden looked like someone who would in fact ask Glorfindel.

“Does he go by that name?”

“Glorfindel?” Thranduil asked.

“Yeah, Fluffy Wings.”

Thranduil gritted his teeth to control his annoyance. “No. But then I do not know what name he goes under. Why would I call him anything else but his real name? I do not care to track him down in the first place.”

“And how long has he been around, you said?”

“I did not tell you,” Thranduil said. 

“But you will,” Garrett said and smiled.

Thranduil looked away. He didn’t like being played and this Vampire used every trick in the book to get the information he wanted. Essentially, Thranduil could respect that, since he did the same to other people.

“Come on, you know you want to share this with me,” Garrett’s red eyes bore into the Elf’s crystal ones, as the Vampire’s honey soft voice ingratiated Thranduil’s ear.

“By Elbereth, you two deserve each other,” Thranduil said exasperated. “Six - maybe seven!”

“Hundred?” Garrett asked.

“Do I look like a child!” Thranduil thundered.

“Cool it, little Elf!” Garrett lifted his hands placating him. “Thousand I take it then.” Then he whistled. “That’s some old dude.”

“You would not say that if you looked at him.”

“What does that make you?”

“Five.”

Garrett smiled and Thranduil looked away. This Vampire had too much charm and Thranduil wasn't succeeding very well in dodging his influence.

“Will you be able to travel to England?” Carlisle asked.

“I haven’t been there several decades.”

“Any reason for that?”

“Let’s just say I got a little too close to Paul McCartney back in 1967.”

Thranduil didn’t need to know the circumstances behind that statement, and Garrett didn’t care to enlighten him. Instead, he told him the real reason why he disliked the British.

“I was born in New England. The Red Coats were my enemy. They massacred my people during the American Revolution because we wished to self govern.”

“And I bet you were a devoted patriot? Just like the British soldiers who were just doing their job,” Thranduil taunted him, even though he too had been through wars due to the same issue.

“Don't play that game, Elf Guy. Because of that war, I was transformed. No offence to Carlisle,” he said and nodded to the doctor who held up a hand.

“None taken.”

“But the many wounded provided easy prey for nomadic Vampires everywhere. Unfortunately, the small unit I was part of was attacked during one of their raids.”

“And the reason you were not killed was...?” Thranduil asked indulgently.

“My attacker was sated when he got to me. Still, he couldn't resist the opportunity to drink some. But since he couldn’t finish, this meant that I turned during the following twenty-four hours. He must have thought I was already dead, but I sure as hell wasn’t. Turning is pure agony.”

Thranduil listened because even though he’d heard Carlisle’s account for how he was turned, it was still a fascinating story and occurrence. Nevertheless, he knew that Garrett was potentially dangerous. “Are you drinking from people or animals?”

“I kinda like your direct questions,” Garrett said with lively eyes that had changed into a burgundy purple colour during their talk. “I was beginning to drink from animals when I was part of the Denali Coven, but alas...”

“Garrett!” Carlisle blurted, clearly disappointed.

“Sorry, my friend. I did it for Kate. Now, I don’t see the point. There are so many scumbags and molesters in this country no one is going to miss. What can I say? At least I finish my meal. The world doesn’t need more Vampires if you ask me. However, I can make exceptions,” he smirked, and looked at Thranduil in the most indecent way.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes in annoyance, but kept his cool. “How often do you eat?”

“Wow! You are inquisitive, Elf Guy,” Garrett chuckled. “Did you really travel to the States just to ask little old me all these questions?”

“No. Do not flatter yourself,” Thranduil huffed. “I also wanted to revisit. I was here many years ago. Since I had some errands to attend, I wanted to combine them with unravelling yet another one of my brother’s schemes.”

“Perhaps you should stop asking him to make your papers for you?” Carlisle suggested.

Thranduil snorted. “Yes that I am aware of. He came to me, remember? Besides his poor choice of subjects, the work itself is spotless.”

“We have some excellent document forgers that we use for the Covens. They are Vampires and always deliver prime merchandise,” Garrett said, lifting a hand to touch Thranduil’s hair.

He let him.

Carlisle grabbed Garrett’s hand and removed it from Thranduil. “Stop. Touching him, Garrett.”

Thranduil realised that the Vampire was trying to lure him again and that he succeeded. 

“Have you gotten your answers?” Carlisle asked.

“Will you go to England?” Thranduil asked, ignoring his friend.

“Depends, doesn’t it? What’s in it for me?” Garrett replied, smiling.

“You can have my brother... as long as you do not turn or kill him.”

“But is he worth anything?” Garrett said, as his sharp teeth teased his lower lip.

Thranduil ignored the come on and answered, “Well, he _is_ a magnificent warrior by all standards, and he would love a challenge like you.”

“Would he now?” Garrett said and smirked. “A warrior you say... which wars, Elf Guy?”

“None you have ever heard of. Some stretched centuries. We battled many races.”

Clearly intrigued, Garrett nodded. “Still, what makes you think I would want to have anything to do with this galling Elf Wasp?”

“He looks like me,” Thranduil said knowing that would rouse Garrett’s libido. And he was not disappointed when he saw Garrett’s pupils dilate in obvious interest. 

“Exactly like you?”

“Yes. My height. Blond. Blue eyes. Cold, snobbish, and posh. What is not to like?”

“And the part about incest?” Garrett asked, lifting his hand again but Carlisle slapped it.

“Why do you not ask him when you meet him? I am sure the two of you could spend hours fighting over whom has got the most bad arse battle wounds.”

Garrett laughed. “Oh, now I can’t wait to meet him.”

“If you are lucky, he goes by this name,” Thranduil said and handed over a copy of Glorfindel’s address. The one from the note Ned had on his person the day they first met.

“Henry Bishop?” Garrett read aloud and looked at Thranduil.

“Good old Henry,” Thranduil said and slipped on his sunglasses. “Was nice talking to you. And Carlisle... Have two new passports made for us by your blood thirsty contact. We are in a hurry so make it worth my time.”

Garrett looked after his retreating back with open mouth in disbelief and Carlisle shrugged. 

“Well, he used to be a king.”

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:


	7. Chapter 7

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

London, October

 

“Come on, boy!” Ned said happily. Thranduil was with him as they picked up Digby in Gatwick Airport after his months’ long quarantine. Thranduil insisted on coming along, in case Digby had forgotten he couldn’t touch his owner. The sweet Golden Retriever had not forgotten and sat patiently wagging his tail, enjoying the rubs he got from Thranduil instead.

“Such a pretty dog you are,” Thranduil cooed and Digby looked very happy which made Ned even happier. 

“Why don’t we grab something to drink on the way?” Ned suggested. “It’s such a pretty day.”

“We could. We are not in a hurry cataloguing the new items we acquired from America.”

Ned smiled. Thranduil had been tense during their stay in Coeur d'Coeurs, and since Ned had learned not to ask questions about the Elf’s transactions, he chose not to this time either. When Thranduil finally showed up again in Ned’s flat, he had bought all kinds of old as well as new stuff that he assured Ned would be worth a lot some day. Time just had to work for him, and the find would soon be considered antique or ‘vintage’, as his customers loved calling anything from their childhood. That was yet another moment when Ned realised how clever Thranduil truly was.

Sometime during their stay, Thranduil took him somewhere to have his photograph taken professionally. New passports and documents were in the making. And finally they had names without an obscure background: Mr. Sebastian and James Pierce. That’s right. The lord mayor of Coeur d'Coeurs did the honours on the last day of their stay and married the Pierce couple with none other than Dr. Cullen as witness. 

Back in England, Ned had as an extra precaution, applied for British citizenship in his old name and it had gotten approved just twelve days ago. 

As they strolled out of Gatwick and went outside toward the parking lot, Ned asked, “Not that I miss him, but I was wondering how come we never see Mr. Bishop anymore?”

“I honestly do not know where he is, Ned. Nor do I care since I do not particularly miss his company. All I know for sure is that someone came to visit him, and he has not kept in touch since.”

“Who exactly made our new papers? You didn't tell me,” Ned asked watching Thranduil closely.

Calmly, his husband met Ned’s eyes. “And you did not ask. But since you are asking, the answer is that Carlisle has connections and I took advantage of that.”

“More Vampires?” Ned asked worriedly. “Maybe you shouldn’t surround yourself with such dangerous people?” He really didn’t trust them for natural reasons. 

“Worry not, my dear. Deep down, Carlisle is harmless,” Thranduil said and smiled reassuringly, putting a hand on his stomach. 

“I can’t help being cautious,” Ned said and looked lovingly at Thranduil and Digby in turn. “I’m so happy he’s back with us,” he said forgetting his worries.

“Yes,” Thranduil said and hugged Ned’s shoulders. “Let us locate the car. I have changed my mind. We should probably return to our neighbourhood and have our hot drink at home. The air is chilly.”

“All right,” Ned agreed readily. 

With Digby safely in the back of the car, they picked up the exciting conversation they’d had on the way to Gatwick. Ned had found a place suitable for his little restaurant adventure not far from Thranduil’s art shop, and spent the last few months turning it into a new Pie Hole. After all, he missed the atmosphere, the process of creating delicious food, and of course the contact to happy customers too much. In just two days, he was ready to open for business, and he was excited to show what the restaurant could offer the neighbourhood, but also what Thranduil would say. Ned had finally gotten his insurance money, and was basically financing the whole establishment himself; just to be cautious, he used his real name. In time, he would change ownership to James Pierce. 

Thranduil was his back up should Ned’s endeavour fail. Together they had worked out the financial details that should cover costs for a year. After that, they’d figure out if the restaurant was viable, or if the entire idea had been too good to be true.

Back at home, they had their coffee and tea. The new house had an extra floor which meant more rooms than the previous one. As always, the nooks and crannies were endless. Thranduil had even shown him some secret passages that kept Ned occupied at least for a few hours. It was like being a kid again. By the looks of it, it was probably the first house Thranduil ever bought. Outside under the gable, the year “1779” was painted. It was hard to imagine anyone had ever lived here prior to Thranduil, and even that was mindboggling.

Thranduil clearly thrived better in this home than in the previous one. Perhaps it reminded him of his wooden castle in Eastern Europe? Well, geography hadn't been Ned's strongest subject in school. He wasn't sure where exactly Thranduil came from. It never came up in conversation. Europe and its borders had changed constantly for the last 3-400 years. Chances were that the Elf couldn't remember anymore, so Ned simply didn't ask. 

When upon moving in, Thranduil surprised Ned by having hired a new younger Scottish housekeeper named Miss Gillan. Additionally, a professional cleaning crew would show up to assist Miss Gillan twice a month, keeping the place tidy. The Elf didn’t say why he had changed his mind. Ned had to admit he was relieved he wouldn’t be in charge of all those square metres. Vividly, he could imagine that just when he’d finished cleaning the house, he would have to start from the beginning all over again. 

The family who had lived there before had only rented parts of the house, so the upper floors had not been lived in while they were there. Thranduil was truly a king, because he took in the entire house and intended on using every room, where as the previous house would serve as storage for his many collections. Ned had brought along the things he wanted to keep from America, but Thranduil had only packed minor things for the transfer. Ned realised that it was because the Elf already had what he needed. Should he need more, it would be easier to simply go to the other house and get it. 

Their previous home was locked down heavily with alarms to protect it, because it would look deserted at some point. Thranduil made arrangements with the alarm company to have the premises patrolled frequently. Also, the lights turned on in the most visible rooms daily to make the place look inhabited. The gardening company would continue making sure the exterior was looked after. Lastly, Miss Gillan had been given access to check the mailbox once a week.

Other than those practical arrangements, the two had settled in in their new house. 

Ned was profoundly happy, and practically vibrating at the prospect of opening his restaurant. The furniture, exterior and interior decor and utilities were in place; the kitchen appliances top notch, of course, and the British Food Safety Authorities’ approval placed visibly in the shop window. Tomorrow, the produce and fresh fruit would arrive and Ned wouldn’t be home much.

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

Thranduil woke up with a little snuffle. Ned had already left. The Elf recalled a kiss at some point, but he hadn’t paid much attention. He was tired, achy, and ravenously hungry. Slowly, he got out of bed and went even slower to the ensuite bathroom to take in his expression in the mirror.

“By Elbereth. I look like death ran me over... with Mount Doom... Two of them in fact.” Lifting his arms, he studied the profile of his stomach and chest. It wasn’t blatantly obvious yet, but Thranduil could tell from other signs, too. His body was out of synch and he was moody. In spite of not having felt this way for ages, he hadn’t forgotten the sensation. He was three months pregnant and Ned was the father. The baby was conceived in America, because it was the only time they had sex without protection. 

Ned was ecstatic at the prospect of becoming a dad, but Thranduil felt drained at this stage and there was still a long way to go before he would feel better. After a much needed bath, Thranduil dressed in loose pants and a robe. Formfitting outfits were too constricting now after all. Then he stepped into the kitchen where Miss Gillan was busy preparing food.

“What is the point really? We should just pop over and have a free meal at Mr. Pierce’s Pie Hole,” he said. 

“And make him nervous?” Miss Gillan mentioned.

“Why would he be nervous?” Thranduil asked.

“It’s his first day,” she said rolling her eyes at him.

“This is not his first day at school, Miss Gillan. He is a professional and has done this many times.”

“If you say so, Mr. Pierce. How are you feeling, sir?” she proceeded to ask while her eyes swept over his frame.

Thranduil decided to let her lofty remark be and responded according to the truth, “Not so good. But the day has only just started.” To explain his developing condition, Thranduil had decided to make her believe that he used to be a woman who kept her female production organs intact. A solution he was not satisfied with because sharing information was unsafe. Alas, the pregnancy was not entirely planned, and he had made her sign confidentiality documents before telling her the news, because sometimes a story was just too good to keep to one self in spite of good intentions.

They stared at each other for a few moments, before Thranduil looked away and smirked. “Well, I am going for my free meal. You can freeze this or whatever you wish.”

“Fine, Mr. Pierce. Go get dressed and I will put this away and join you.”

“That was not so hard, was it?” Thranduil said satisfied with the bargain.

He went back upstairs to change his clothes. Despite her young age compared to Ned and himself, Miss Gillan was behaving motherly toward the both of them, and the Elf didn't mind. But then she had no idea how old the two of them really were.

“Maybe I should install an elevator? This was not as taxing back when I carried Legolas. Or was it?” he debated, feeling drained already by the first flight of stairs. A sudden wave of emotion took over him, and he had to embrace himself from the violent longing for his son. Tears ran down his cheeks and he was completely beside himself when Miss Gillan found him.

“Are you all right, Mr. Pierce?”

Thranduil tried to wipe his cheeks but the tears were adamantly letting out the sorrow his heart was experiencing. “Yeah... yes. I am... this is just hormones.” Helplessly, he looked away and used the banister to get up. “I am all right. Do not worry about it.” Nevertheless, he let her give him a hand to reach his floor. 

Ensconced in his dressing room, Thranduil took his time finding something practical to put on, before he was ready to step outside and join his housekeeper to see Ned in action in his Pie Hole. The food he knew by heart already. He was just curious what other people thought about it. That was the important thing.

They took the car to get there. Conveniently, Thranduil parked at the Gallery and they walked the last distance.

“How long have you had the gallery? It’s quite old, isn’t it?” Miss Gillan asked.

Thranduil smiled. “Not for long. I was lucky to take over from the previous owner. It was a bargain. Old accumulated rubbish that I have turned into a viable business.”

“I’m not into old things. I like them young.”

“Good to know,” Thranduil said haltingly, sensing the topic of their conversation stray in another direction. Pulling his sunglasses down from their usual position on top of his head, Thranduil slipped them on his nose. They crossed the street and soon entered the colourful little restaurant.

There were many people inside having a brunch, lunch, or just sitting there enjoying a beverage with a slice of Ned’s fantastic pie.

“Darling,” Ned said looking up from behind the counter when the doorbell jingled. He was clad in a black t-shirt and classic pepita chequered baker’s pants. The two students he’d hired as help were just as busy, but the atmosphere was light, unhurried, and Ned was radiant with joy.

Thranduil went over there and with just one intimidating look at two younger men sitting at the counter, they picked up their notebooks and left their seats.

“D-don’t do that,” Ned winced and rubbed the back of his head.

“They were just leaving. People should not occupy chairs if they do not need them,” Thranduil said with a little huff. “Feed me, my dear,” the Elf said.

Ned smiled forgiving him his rudeness instantly. “I have something for you.” Barely a minute went past, and he then brought forth a slice of cool apple pie with whipped cream and Thranduil’s favourite tea. “This has been waiting for you all day.”

“I barely got out of bed half an hour ago,” Thranduil said.

Leading his head forward, Ned whispered in Thranduil’s ear, “You look radiantly gorgeous, Mr. Pierce. Everybody is staring at you.”

“I look like shit and you know it, Mr. Pierce,” Thranduil grunted, “But thanks for the pep talk.” His hand reached out and slowly, his thumb caressed the wedding band on Ned’s ring finger that matched his own. Designed by Thranduil, of course.

Shaking his head, Ned chanced a kiss to the corner of the Elf’s mouth.

“Thanks. How is it going?”

“Better than expected. Look around! People were cueing up outside when I opened. I could easily have opened an hour earlier, but it’s just gonna set me back an hour of preparation.”

“Then you hire someone to help you with that,” Thranduil said, lifting an eyebrow.

“We’ve talked about this,” Ned said. “You know I’d rather do that myself. Accidents could happen that I don’t want anyone else seeing.”

The fruit. If it wasn’t fresh, it would become fresh in Ned’s hands and that would be awkward if someone saw.

“I hear you. I just do not want you to work yourself to death.” 

Ned smirked and was about to lean back in and steal a real kiss from Thranduil’s lips, when they heard a discreet cough.

“Oh… Miss Gillan. Didn’t quite see you standing there,” Ned chuckled and moved away from Thranduil again. “Would you like some pie?”

“Yes. And congratulations, Mr. Pierce! Looks like a success.”

“Do you need a hand dusting tables?” Thranduil asked and looked slyly at Miss Gillan.

“Wow... You did not just do that!” Ned said exasperated.

Thranduil laughed. “Sorry. It is the way I was brought up. I am used to ordering people about.”

“Of course, you don’t have to, Miss Gillan,” Ned said. “Mr. Pierce has the worst sense of humour I’ve ever come across. My staff takes care of that.”

“No worries, boys. As long as I’m paid for the work I do at your place. I’ll just sit here and enjoy the food.”

“Mr. Edwards?” someone said and approached the counter. Looking up, both Thranduil and Ned quickly scanned the restaurant to find out who addressed Ned with his real name. That person turned out to be none other than Inspector Evans.

Coolly, Thranduil said to Miss Gillan, “This is one of those times where you just play along. Are we clear?” Shrugging she nodded. The Elvenking sure knew how to pick his housekeepers.

“Oh... You’re here, too?” the Inspector said, as if discovering Thranduil’s presence was a delightful pleasure. “I never really caught your name,” he said, ignoring having recognised Ned now that his eyes rested on the delectable blond back from the Art’s Gallery.

“I did give it to you. How can you lose it so easily?” Thranduil said, not caring for the Inspector’s little games.

“Oh, indulge me. What is it?” the Inspector asked.

Thranduil decided to whip out the name he gave back then. It was still valid in some instances. “Mr. Crane.”

“Right. Mr. Crane. Now I remember.”

“I bet you know all there is to know about me, Inspector,” Thranduil said and took a sip of tea.

“Which is far too little, I’m afraid. I know I like the hair. It really brings out your... eyes.” Evans chuckled and smiled broadly. 

When Thranduil turned to deliver a snappish retort, his blood almost ran cold. He noticed the fangs straight away. They almost sparkled in the halogen spot lights above the counter. He chose not to say anything right away. How come he hadn’t noticed those teeth, when he first met the Inspector? It could mean trouble if they were the real deal. Just the thought of Vampire Covens in London was worrisome and highly likely.

“Excuse me,” the Inspector said to Miss Gillan, as he literally squeezed in between her and Thranduil.

Ned put a coffee cup in front of the man and made sure he placed it harder than necessary. Thranduil smirked and licked his dry lips quickly.

“It’s on the house,” Ned said courtly.

“Thanks, Mr. Edwards.”

“Luke?!” a voice called and shortly after, they were joined by a dark-haired man at least a head taller than Mr. Evans.

“Oh. Um... My partner, Constable Armitage. These gentlemen are... Edwards behind the counter and... the _intriguing_ Mr. Crane right next to us.”

“Luke, really?” Constable Armitage said.

“Why not?” Luke Evans said and chuckled. “We just wanted a coffee. This place seems to be the hype, and then I find you here. We didn’t really get a chance to talk last time.”

“No. I am sure I did not miss much from the absence,” Thranduil said courtly. “Besides, I have an appointment.”

“I could... we could take you, Mr. Crane.”

“Take me where?” Thranduil asked.

“To where you’re going,” the Inspector added eagerly.

“You’re embarrassing,” Constable Armitage said.

“I can take myself,” Thranduil said.

“I insist.”

“As do I. What exactly is your agenda, Inspector?”

“He has no agenda, Mr. Crane and we apologise both for his lack of common manners,” Mr. Armitage said and looked at the Inspector with disapproving blue eyes.

Well, the man was quite the looker, but Thranduil wasn’t looking. 

“Miss Gillan. Would you kindly take me to my appointment?”

“Which one?”

“The one I have right now.”

“Right. See you around Mr. Pier...”

“Miss Gillan!” Thranduil interrupted her mid-mistake, and she looked stunned for a change.

“Ooooo-kay?” she tried.

Thranduil smiled at Ned who was watching it all with an expression the Elf didn’t know how to interpret. Smiling apologetically, he said, “Lovely lunch?”

Ned nodded and waved sadly at him as the Elf left the Pie Hole with their housekeeper.

Outside and out of other people’s hearing reach, Miss Gillan asked, “Where exactly are we going, Mr. Pierce?”

“To the doctor. I should have had a physical a week ago, but I was busy.”

"Procrastinating."

"Busy!"

"Whatever," Miss Gillan said and winked.

Thereafter, she didn’t comment on much more nor why the police had called him Mr. Crane back in the restaurant just now. Thranduil wouldn’t have answered anyway. She was not his confidante.

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:


	8. Chapter 8

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

“This is quite interesting, Thranduil. It’s not often I have the opportunity to see an intersexual person. And a pregnant one on top of that!” Carlisle said.

“Congratulations,” Thranduil said dryly. “What is your estimation?”

“You can dress now. You’re certain you conceived in America?”

Thranduil got down from the examinations table and dressed. “Yes. I had vaginal sex in America. It is not as if I count my cycles anymore. They are too rare for that nowadays. But it is the only time that has ever happened, and we were quite drunk and did not use protection. Usually we do it anally.”

“Seems to me you knew perfectly well that you were having a cycle, Thranduil.”

The Elvenking looked pointedly at Carlisle but a small smile was detectable in the corner of his mouth. “Well...” Thranduil indulged. “Let us for arguments’ sake say that perhaps I was aware, and that I seized the opportunity of having a child with my beloved.”

“All right. For _argument’s sake_ ,” Carlisle said. Then he went on to the clinical side of Thranduil’s visit. “Judging by the size of your uterus and the time of conception, you are on time closing in on thirteen weeks. Next spring... you will have a baby.” 

“I am scared, Carlisle,” Thranduil realised.

“Of course you are, my friend. But this time, you can have a caesarean.”

“Right. I can. And I probably should.”

“Hey... it’s going to be all right,” Carlisle said and embraced the Elf. 

“What if this baby is mortal?”

“You can’t worry about that. That’s just asking for heartache. It’s not even born yet.”

Thranduil bit his lips and forced himself not to worry in advance, but just the thought of losing this child to old age was truly heart breaking.

“Carlisle... are there active Covens in London?”

Carlisle looked surprised. “What makes you say that?”

“I know you never wanted to tell me for my own safety.”

“But?”

“It is just that Inspector Evans, who was handling Ned’s case when he first got here in search of his identify thief... he came by the Restaurant, and I swear to you that he flashed fangs capable of making damage.”

“First of all, there is no Vampire in the police force by the name of Evans. So on that point, he is not a threat to you. And secondly, the Vampires that are left in this area do not feast on regular people. They take the weak and the homeless. Your family is safe.”

Thranduil certainly hoped so.

The phone interrupted their moment, and Carlisle answered. Then he looked alert and his facial expression had Thranduil pay attention as well, when his friend’s eyes slid to Thranduil’s.

“Slow down, Garrett. What are you saying?” Carlisle listened to the other Vampire and then the doctor cried out, “You did WHAT?!”

Alarmed, Thranduil stepped closer.

“I don’t care if he annoyed you... My god! I can’t believe you did that! Where are you? Where is he?”

“Is it Glorfindel?” Thranduil asked worriedly.

Carlisle looked stressed. “Don’t do a bloody thing. We’ll figure something out.”

“What?” Thranduil asked.

Carlisle looked uneasily at him when he finally said, “Garrett drained Glorfindel. He’s dead.”

At first, Thranduil couldn’t understand what he said but when he did, he was shocked. “No! Why did he do that?”

“He was constantly pushing Garrett to his limit and finally he snapped. He couldn’t even remember doing it. But when he came around your brother was dead. Drained.”

It was simply inconceivable. Although Thranduil couldn’t stand Glorfindel, the knowledge of him being obliterated was even worse. “Huh...” he muttered. “This is unacceptable.”

“Of course it is. Garrett is out of his mind with guilt.”

“I cannot say that I blame him, but this is my kin, Carlisle!”

“How about Ned?” Carlisle suggested delicately.

“What about Ned?” Thranduil moaned clutching his chest that suddenly contracted with pain.

“If you want your brother back, Ned could wake him.”

“What? And who would take Glorfindel’s place after one minute has gone? You know someone else must die if that happens?” Thranduil counter argued incredulous.

“Let me worry about that.”

“No... that is not a variable.”

“Seriously, old friend. Let me worry about it. I feel like I’m to blame for some of it.” Carlisle was still cradling the phone and then gave it his attention. “Garrett? Go to Glorfindel’s brother in law’s restaurant ‘The Pie Hole’ and bring the Elf with you.”

“What are you talking about?” Thranduil said.

“Garrett can travel quite fast. No one will notice,” Carlisle said to Thranduil before addressing Garrett again, “Do you know how to find it? Good. I’ll see you there in an hour.”

“Huh...” Thranduil sat down heavily in a chair in front of Carlisle’s desk.

“It’s going to work out.”

“No. It is not.” But then a thought entered his mind and looking out of the window, the Elvenking reluctantly accepted the idea anyway. 

“Just don’t be anywhere near the restaurant when Garret comes.”

Thranduil didn’t find that piece of advice worthy to answer. “I am going home.” 

Going to the waiting room, he found Miss Gillan sitting there waiting for him. “Let us leave. I need to rest. This has suddenly become a traumatic day.”

“You do look upset.”

“That is an understatement.”

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

Ned was fifteen minutes from closing up the restaurant after an extremely successful day. His helpers had gone home and he was alone when a scruffy looking man came in and demanded food and coffee.

“Of course,” Ned said, looking at him. He looked like he could eat the entire buffet, and why not? Ned didn’t keep the pies from day to day. Always new and fresh pie every day. 

“You can have the rest of the pies.”

“I can’t pay for all them,” the man said.

“That’s all right. Enjoy what you can eat.”

Ned stood wiping down the counter when he heard subtle noise from the back. Going to check what was going on, he was treated to the sight of the doctor, a tall fellow he’d never seen before, and a very dead looking Mr. Bishop. Ned was stunned and just looked at the bizarre display.

“Hey, Ned!” Carlisle waved a hand before his eyes and Ned shook his head to clear his mind.

“But that is Glorfindel. Mr. Bishop! What happened? What is Thranduil gonna say? Oh, dear god...!”

“Calm down, Ned,” Carlisle said. “There is an explanation.”

“I killed him. Please wake him up?” Garrett said right away. “It was a fucking mistake, okay? I want him back.”

“But... someone else will die!”

“Yes. That guy in the restaurant who is helping himself to your till. Now wake him!” Carlisle prompted him.

“What? He’s stealing?” Ned said. Too many commandos at once made him anxious. But then self-righteous anger filled him when he got the message of the customer’s behaviour.

“We’d best be leaving so you can do this undisturbed,” the tall bloke said and left.

“Wait! Just tell me if Thranduil know about this?”

“Yes, he does and he approves,” Carlisle said and went after the other one.

“What? No! Come back here!” Ned said, but they were already gone. Ned was left alone with his shockingly dead brother in law - and the greedy guy in the restaurant.

With shaky hands, he looked at Mr. Bishop who for some reason had died prematurely. Then he opened the door to the restaurant a jar to see what the man was up to. Definitely no good. He was actually stealing Ned’s money and taking free pie on top of that. He looked sinister. He wasn’t a good person. But bad enough to kill? Suddenly the man took out a gun from his pocket and from his PI experience; Ned knew that was reason enough to make a decision. The guy would only need a gun if he planned on confronting Ned violently.

Quickly, he came back into the kitchen and put a finger on The Elf’s neck. The ancient warrior gasped and looked at Ned for a while. The seconds ticked by.

“Please be quiet. There is a thief in the restaurant and he mustn’t see you like this,” Ned whispered.

Mr. Bishop looked confused. “Didn’t Garrett suck my blood dry just now?” he whispered.

“I don't know what he did if he’s guilty of killing you. Who is Garrett?”

Mr. Bishop wasn’t entirely focused on answering questions – only asking them. “What day is it and why am I here?”

“Pleeease, be quiet,” Ned whispered. “There is a man with a gun in the restaurant. A robber,” Ned said and looked at his watch. Twenty seconds had passed.

“HEY!? Where is that bloke with the apron? Did you say you had more pie?” the man called out.

“Just lie still a few seconds more,” Ned assured the Elf, and went to stand by the door. “Y-yeah. Help yourself, sir. I have more in the back if you run out of desserts.”

“Sweet,” the man laughed and joggled the gun around a finger. 

Horrified, Ned swallowed feeling scared, abandoned, and in way over his head. Chancing one last peek into the restaurant, Ned saw the man using his free hand to stuff his mouth with pie, until suddenly he got food in the wrong pipe and began choking on it. 

“Oh!” Ned cried, freaking out because in spite of him having grabbed Ned’s money, the pie maker couldn’t ignore the robber was about to choke to death. But then the man fell to the floor and stopped moving. He was dead. 

One minute had passed.

For the next minute, Ned just stood rooted to the floor trying to take in what had just happened. The only thing he sensed was white noise. Ned felt hands on his shoulders and the adrenaline was rolling through his veins. He shook all over and could barely stand on his feet. Then he felt hands touching his back and shoulder, and slowly the noise disappeared and all he felt was being comforted. The two otherworldly Vampires made sure to guide him through the shock until he could speak again. Only when Ned was feeling normal again, did someone call 112.

Mr Bishop was also present, but he looked spooked and stood as far away from Ned as possible. Apparently, he now knew the risk if he touched Ned.

Fifteen minutes later, Inspector Evans and his constable were back in the restaurant taking Ned’s statement for what had occurred to the deceased robber. 

“So... Are you planning on staying in England, Mr. Edwards? Did you solve your little identity theft problem, by the way?” Inspector Evans asked after the formalities with the deceased man was completed.

“Well, you sure weren’t much help,” Ned said. 

“Touché,” Evans said with a charming chuckle. 

“But no. I dropped the case.” 

Evans grabbed his chin with a hand and slanted his head a little before asking, “Say... does this Mr. Crane bloke come around your establishment often?”

“I only opened for business today. I would have no idea,” Ned said, evading the question.

“You do realise there was a connection between your claim and his address?”

“No. You kept me out of your investigation all together, so how would I know?”

“Look, Mr. Edwards,” the inspector said and put a hand on Ned’s shoulder. “I could disregard your lack of a green card, if you would rapport to me when he shows up.”

“Why don't you simply investigate his address?” Ned said calmly. He didn’t need a green card.

“Oh, I did, Mr. Edwards. But it doesn’t look like Mr. Crane lives there. The premises are literally abandoned.”

“Has nothing to do with me. Sorry. Can’t help you.”

The inspector closed his little pad and shared a look with Constable Armitage. “When are you due to leave England?”

“Well, I did leave, but then I returned again to open this restaurant.”

“Oh, and it’s very quaint. The only problem is that you need to be a British citizen for that,” Evans said with glee he wasn’t trying to hide.

“He is now,” his constable said.

“He’s what now?” Evans asked.

Armitage pointed towards Ned. “A British citizen. Has been for a fortnight.”

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

“I am so sorry you had to go through that,” Thranduil said lying on the side in bed. Ned was just finished putting on his pyjamas and came to join him. Their limbs entwined immediately.

“At least your brother will now have respect for me. He kept a safe distance once he understood what it would mean to touch me.”

Thranduil smiled. “And then he will stay away from this family all together in order not to risk his life.”

Ned smiled back. “Finally.”

“So what did he do afterwards? When they left?”

“He actually left with this Garrett character. I think they’d come to an agreement.”

Thranduil seemed to like that. “So Glorfindel is attracted after all. Or else the Vampire just lured him in once more. I trust Garrett will not do the same mistake to him twice or I will personally kill him.”

“Calm down, sweetheart,” Ned said and spooned his lover. He put a hand on his stomach. “Everything went all right at the examination?”

“It did. The baby will be a new, healthy, and virile heir to a forest full of venom they did not ask for.”

“Can’t we just make an easy start with Hyde Park?” 

Thranduil chuckled. “Yes, Darling. Why not?”

:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:\V/:

End of Tale 30. May 2017 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I hope you'll let me know your thoughts. 
> 
> Till next time.... :)


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